


Synesthesia Shuffle

by ScaryLibrary



Series: Reshuffle [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempted Sexual Assault, Gen, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, the slowest burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2019-10-21 04:35:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 53,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17636108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScaryLibrary/pseuds/ScaryLibrary
Summary: When Barry went back in time to learn the secret of tachyon enhancement from Eobard Thawne, he also drastically altered the course of Hartley Rathaway's life. His decision also caused a ripple effect throughout the timeline. Lives will be changed, lives will be saved. The full magnitude of the consequences will not become clear until much later. On the plus side, Hartley's chance to redeem himself has also afforded him a second chance with a certain, gorgeous engineer. If only it weren't for the threat of two of his ex bosses!





	1. Second Chances

**Author's Note:**

> This story will be told in 2 parts. The first part is told from the perspective of Hartley Rathaway. Anywhere that the story diverges from the canon timelines in CW: Arrow and CW: The Flash can be assumed to be intentional and a direct consequence of time travel.
> 
> I'm not kidding about the Sloooooooooowness of the Burn, here.

There was the low buzzing of the camera and the higher pitched sound of the microphone but those were the only sounds Hartley could make out. It was unsettling given that he was used to having to filter out the countless sounds of the city. Now, his enhanced hearing could only deepen the silence.

After the second hour of Hartley’s captivity in what used to be the particle accelerator, he had to listen to Dr. Wells’s paltry version of a heartfelt apology. His former boss had only come down to put on a show for his new favorite protegee. It didn’t even help when he was treated to overhearing his apology to the rest of the team. After waiting so long to hear Harrison say the words “Hartley warned me”, to hear him admit out loud that Hartley had been right about the particle accelerator, Hartley realized that it didn’t matter. He didn’t feel any better. He didn’t feel vindicated or righteous. He didn’t even feel smug. He just felt _small_. It was all he could do to hold back the tears.

At least the monotony was broken up briefly by that dementor attack. Or whatever that thing had been.

At the tail end of the fourth hour, Hartley had to sit, breaking his meager protest to rest his feet. Four hours, without a single S.T.A.R labs member preaching at him? Hartley was starting to become _concerned_. His original escape plan was ruined and ‘Plan B’ was lacking grace, too akin to James Jesse’s style. While Hartley contemplated the potential collateral damage of waiting for ‘Plan B’ to force his captor’s hands, he noticed the doors beginning to open.

The heavy, metal door in front of the cracked, clear barrier lifted and Hartley got to his feet before the person on the other side of the barrier could be revealed. He was oddly relieved to see Cisco, even if his former colleague was perturbed, brows drawn in and arms folded over his chest. Trying to intimidate Hartley, no doubt.

“How long are you planning to keep me in this makeshift _oubliette_?” Hartley demanded. “So far, all I am guilty of is vandalism and saving your skin.”

“Oh, shut up, Hartley,” Cisco sneered. “You had  _bombs_ in your _ears_.”

“You have no proof that I intended to cause harm or damage with those.” Hartley crooned. He stepped up to the glass and smirked when Cisco took a few steps forward himself.

“Uh huh.” Cisco said. “Whatever you were planning to do, it’s over.” Cisco took a deep breath and let out a low whine, a sour expression on his face. “We need your help.”

“Is that Dementor still flapping around?” Hartley asked, tracing the spiderweb of cracks in the glass the creature had left. 

Cisco snorted, failing to completely stifle a laugh. “No, but the creep should be back. Your sound gauntlets were the only thing that affected it so far.”

“How do you know it’s coming back?” Hartley asked. “You seem so _certain_.”

“It will, just trust me,” Cisco said. “I can’t really talk about it.”

Hartley raised a brow at Cisco. “Really, now?”

“It’s The Flash’s business,” he said. “It’s something that might be dangerous for too many people to hear.”

“You don’t trust me,” Hartley said. “Even though you know I was right all along.”

Cisco scoffed. “Of _course_  I don’t trust you, even if you were mad, you still could’ve hurt Dr. Wells with all that broken glass.”

“Dr. Wells is _unharmed_ ,” Hartley retorted. He crossed his arms over his chest. “He admitted his wrongdoing and apologized but _I’m_ still in a cell. Now you need my help because your _hero_ can’t manage. Pathetic.”

Cisco scowled, posture tensing further. “Listen, alright? Ever since the whole… particle accelerator thing, my life has been absolutely _insane_ and today was no exception. I’m not in the mood for your attitude so either help me or stay in here and rot.”

“You’re so _touchy_ , _Cisquito_ -”

“Don’t,” Cisco interrupted. “It makes my skin crawl when you speak Spanish.”

“If you want my help, you have to let me out of here.” Hartley sighed, rested his hands on the glass and leaned forward until his nose was almost touching it. “There’s a second fail-safe in the gauntlets. A frequency that should make the one I used on the Dementor feel like a _tickle_. If you try to take my tech apart without following a precise sequence, the sound it will emit will liquefy your brain.”

“That’s messed up,” Cisco muttered.

Hartley laughed softly. “If you let me out of this cell, I’ll tell you what _really_ happened to Ronnie Raymond,” Hartley said. He’d expected Cisco to express disbelief or even anger at first and was very surprised by Cisco’s easy acceptance.

“Tell me right now, then I’ll let you out.”

Hartley took a step back away from the glass and focused his gaze on the cracks in the glass, breaking Cisco’s gaze. “I’ve always had a certain fondness for Dr. Snow and I would genuinely dislike having to hold Ronnie over _her_ head.” Hartley looked Cisco in the eye, and smirked. “Wouldn’t you?”

“More like you’re scared of her wrath.” Cisco ground his teeth and stepped over to the control panel to open the glass partition. “I still hate you.”

Hartley’s smirk took on an almost fond edge. “ _Te odio más_.”

 

**

 

It wasn't the first time Hartley and Cisco had been on the roof of STAR Labs together but the circumstances were different this time. While Cisco took a closer look at the bomb shadow left by Martin Stein, Hartley stood patiently and waited for Cisco to draw his own conclusion.

“This is what happened to Martin Stein?” Cisco asked, finally, turning to look at Hartley. “That’s awful.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Hartley said. He stepped up beside Cisco and looked at the shadow with him. “This is what was left when the energy from the particle accelerator collided with Martin Stein and his F.I.R.E.S.T.O.R.M. Matrix.” 

Cisco was silent for a moment. “Okay, but what does this have to do with Ronnie?” 

Hartley smirked. “All in due time. I could try to explain but I think it’s something you have to see for yourself.”

“You’re infuriating, you know that?” Cisco asked. He shoved his hands in his pockets and turned back toward the roof access door. “So why don’t you show me then?” 

“We’ll have to go to the CCPD to get footage of the incident,” Hartley said.

"Alright, _fine_ , let's go.”

 

**

 

There was a fly in Hartley’s apartment and its constant buzzing was just at the right pitch to irritate his unnaturally sensitive ears. He didn’t have the time or patience to try and kill it or shoo it out of his home so he just had to try and ignore it while he and Cisco talked.

After showing Cisco the footage of Martin Stein being hit with the energy wave from the particle accelerator explosion at the CCPD, he and Cisco had returned to his apartment. They sat on Hartley’s couch for a while to give Cisco some time to process all this new information. 

“God, what a day.” Cisco said, glancing out the window. It was after sunset by now and both engineers were showing clear signs of fatigue.

“What _was_ that thing earlier?” Hartley asked. “It looked like _death_ made of vapor.”

“It was a pain in the ass, is what it was.  I don’t wanna get into secret operations going on with The Flash since you’re technically a villain-”

“I _do_ believe my father and Dr. Wells have _both_ earned a fair amount more punishment than a few broken windows.” Hartley said.

“I get it, Dr. Wells fired you and you weren’t even wrong.” Cisco said. “But you gotta move past that, Hartley. That… whatever it was is gonna be back some day and we might need your help on the Ronnie stuff, not to mention the metahumans giving us trouble every week.”

Hartley scoffed and propped his feet up on his coffee table. There was a pair of three inch wide scuffs in the varnish from months of this habit of Hartley’s. “Wells destroyed my reputation and put hundreds of lives at risk to protect his fragile, narcissistic ego. It’s going to take a lot more than an apology to make that right and I _will not_ be in that building again.”

Cisco sighed. “It was an accident.”

“I _told him_ just _exactly_ what would happen and why,” Hartley said, cutting in, angry and impatient. “Wells didn’t even bother to check. Doesn’t that strike you as _strange_?”

“I guess… I… I thought he was just over-confident,” Cisco said, shrugging. “He talked a lot about hubris afterward. He feels bad about it all, you know. He’s been trying to make it right.”

Hartley was quiet for a moment, staring up at a corner of the ceiling where a spider had made its home. He could tell Cisco a great many things about his ability. How Hartley could hear the note of false pretense like a dissonant chord when someone lied. Or the tickle of a breath caught in someone’s throat when they look at someone they love. There was a lot that could be read off of the sounds a person’s heart made when they spoke, or the infinitesimal changes in pitch and volume that only Hartley could hear. He could tell Cisco that he could hear an unsettling, callous undertone to his mentor’s voice. He could tell Cisco that he knew for a fact that the man he looked up to so much was a sociopath.

But Hartley never did like being a hypocrite. The only reason these things about Wells were so obvious to Hartley _now_ was due to Wells’s similarity with a different charismatic sociopath Hartley knew. There was no reasonable conversation that could happen should Hartley be forced to admit _that_. Still, it irked him to think of Cisco being so completely fooled by Harrison Wells.

Hartley sighed. “I don’t trust him,” he said. “I can’t get past it and I need you to respect that or I won’t be able to help you.”

“Fine,” Cisco said and fell silent again.

The buzzing of the fly was starting to give Hartley a migraine. He wanted to keep the conversation going, if only to drown it out. “You’ve never doubted Wells? Even after learning of his deception?”

“I’m pissed he lied about it,” Cisco said. “But people have done a lot worse things to cover their asses, Hartley. I _am_ sorry you got fired. You were trying to do the right thing. That wasn’t fair. But you can come work for us again.”

“I’ll work with you and Caitlin. I _might_ even be convinced to do a favor or two for The Flash,” Hartley said. “But you won’t tell me more about what happened today?”

“Sorry,” Cisco said. “Even if I wanted to, that’s the Flash’s decision.”

Hartley chuckled. “Is he cute under the mask?”

Cisco spluttered, clearly startled by the question.

“He looks _fantastic_ in the leather,” Hartley went on. “But it was so difficult to make out whether or not he was attractive without.” Hartley tipped his head in Cisco’s direction, amused by the other man’s discomfort at this line of conversation. “Have you ever seen him stripped down?”

“Ugh, if you’re asking me if I know who the Flash is-”

“I don’t give a _damn_ what his name is,” Hartley said. “I just want to know if what’s under the suit is impressive.”

Cisco groaned. “I’d be lying if I said no,” he admitted finally. “He wouldn’t be your type, though…” Then he made a jerking motion with his head and hands, suddenly looking irritable. “Why am I talking to you about boys? I’ve got better stuff to do with my time.”

The fly’s buzzing suddenly stopped and Hartley let out a nearly inaudible sigh of relief. “I’ll work on the frequency for the Azkaban Guard.” Hartley made a shooing motion with his hands. “Go do your… ‘better stuff.’”

“Yeah, yeah,” Cisco stood. “Thanks for your help, Hartley.” Hartley barely managed to process his surprise at being _thanked_ by Cisco Ramon when Cisco grasped his hand briefly and shook it. “I’ll take the blame for your escape since you don’t want Wells to know you’re helping us.”

“That’s kind of you,” Hartley said. He was so stunned by how well everything had gone (all things considered -his original plan had still failed) that he almost didn’t think to look for the fly after Cisco left. A quick sweeping look of his small living room yielded immediate results. The fly had flown straight into the spider’s web.

Of course, Hartley hadn't told Cisco the real reason he wasn't able to return to S.T.A.R. Labs. In fact, he had to leave town _right now_. Hartley couldn't help reminiscing about how he'd gotten himself into this mess as he began packing a duffel bag full of the things he couldn't live without.

One week after being fired and disgraced, Hartley had gotten a phone call from a blocked number and answered to an unfamiliar voice.

“I hear you’re pretty handy and unemployed,” the voice had said.

“That’s a fine way to greet a person,” Hartley had retorted. “I don’t _need_ a job. Certainly not the kind you're likely offering.”

Hartley hung up the phone. It rang again a moment later.

“This isn't like that,” the voice said as soon as Hartley picked up.

The diatribe he had prepared died on his phone. “Is that so?”

“Look, the two of us have something in common,” the voice said.

Hartley scoffed. “I’m hanging up now-”

“You want revenge, don't you? Something to catch the attention of people who’ve ignored or neglected you. You need a way to call attention to your suffering.”

It was simply _uncanny_ and exactly the right thing to say to keep Hartley on the line.“Who is this?” Hartley demanded.

“Just a man who knows how to spot _potential_.” The man’s tone was too suggestive.

Hartley scoffed again. “Are you coming onto me? Because I can tell from your voice that you’re _far_ too old.”

The man laughed. “I have a _long_ time partner and we’re not looking for a third. Don’t flatter yourself. I’m _much_ more interested in your other talents.”

“How did you hear about me?” Hartley asked. He knew he should hang up. There was no way this was anything but trouble but he, unfortunately, had an affinity for that type of thing.

“The Rathaway name is extremely famous, you know that. What they did to _you_ isn’t well known but I like to keep track of which bags of money are clutched by schmucks.

Hartley was grinding his teeth now.

“I’m gonna level with you, kid. I’m a bad man but I look after my crew. Come meet me, just the once and if you’re not interested, that’ll be the last you hear from me. I’ll send the address via SMS.”

Hartley laughed. “Goodness, how old _are_ you?”

“Old enough.”

The line went dead. Twenty minutes later, Hartley received a text from a blocked number. The address in a neighborhood Hartley would never have been caught _dead_ in (which was the likeliest end for a wealthy person who set foot there). He went back and forth for nearly an hour before he found himself mapping out the route and heading to the location armed to the teeth. He may not have valued his life _much_ at that point, but he wasn’t suicidal.

Leonard Snart was sitting on a dinged up metal bench in front of a warehouse that looked like it hadn’t been used in a century. When Hartley stopped several feet from the bench, Snart stood, buttoned his suit jacket and extended a hand to Hartley. “ _So_ glad you were agreeable,” Snart said. “I’m Leonard Snart. I already know who you are.”

Hartley looked at Snart’s hand, his manicured fingernails and a ring he wore on his pinkie finger. Hartley grasped his hand briefly and let go. “Leonard,” Hartley said. “You’ve caught my attention. What do you want?”

“I’d rather not talk business outside,” Snart said.

“Are any of the three men inside the building right now something for me to be concerned about?” Hartley asked.

Snart chuckled. “They answer to me,” he said. So long as we’re getting along, none of them will give you trouble."

“I’m not interested in meeting your crew,” Hartley said. “ _You_ called me. What do you want?”

Snart’s smile widened. “You’ve got _chutzpah_. I like that.” He rubbed his hands together. “Put simply, there’s a painting I want and your parents are going to buy it.”

It was Hartley’s turn to look dubious. “How do you know what my parents intend to buy?”

“Oh, they don’t know the painting is up for sale yet, but don’t you worry, they’re _going_ to buy it. I’ve tracked the purchasing patterns of several of this state’s wealthiest people,” he said. “They’re very predictable, the rich. In fact, I knew you’d show up here today and I know you’re going to work for me.”

“You seem very confident.” Hartley lifted his chin. “You plan to steal a painting from my parents? Is that why you thought I’d be interested?”

“I thought you’d be interested because you like a challenge,” Snart said. “The fringe benefit of me humiliating your deadbeat parents is merely icing on the cake.”

Hartley was silent, contemplating this. “If I agree to work for you, what do you plan to have me do?” Hartley asked.

Snart grinned again. It was unsettling. “First, you’re going to fix my security system. I don’t want my base being infiltrated. Basic I.T. work. Second, you’re going to build me a gun.”

Hartley took very little time to think it over. “I’ll do it if you tell me why you want the painting.”

Snart’s expression turned serious, gaze narrowed slightly. “Repentance.”

 

**

 

Hartley made his way to the train station wearing a hooded sweatshirt to hide his face. He used a fake ID and paid in cash for his train ticket. He always kept cash nowadays, just for this kind of predicament. He'd known what he was getting into with Snart, knew Snart didn't forgive failure easily. Hartley had prepared an exit strategy in advance.

He was supposed to have killed The Flash. Failing that, gotten The Flash's real name. That Hartley actually had _known_ The Flash's real name for weeks was irrelevant. After seeing the way Cisco talked about The Flash, Hartley couldn't bring himself to tell Snart his name. He had no guarantee that if he did that Snart wouldn't kill him anyway.

So Hartley kept hold of that bargaining chip and headed for Starling City. At least there, he was out of Snart's reach. And he could hide out with Tommy Merlyn now that Malcolm was gone. Tommy wouldn't shun him on the word of his parents. It would also bring him closer to uncovering the identity of The Green Arrow and more importantly, The Canary. The Canary could teach him how to use sound waves more effectively, he was sure of it. He just had to figure out a way to convince her.

Hartley bought a burner phone while he waited for the train.  He composed a text to Cisco on the new phone and saved it rather than send right away. Better to be further away before alerting Cisco that he was leaving. He smashed his old phone with the heel of his boot. Everything important was saved on his laptop, one of the few things he’d brought with him. He had Cisco’s and Tommy’s numbers. He didn’t need anyone else’s.

After Hartley boarded the train and found a dark, relatively quiet corner of a car, he hit send on the message and watched as the streetlights blurred against the night sky. He lay his head against the glass to get some sleep. Starling wasn’t terribly far away but the train was to make several (likely pointless) stops along the way so Hartley had plenty of time to dream. It was a recurring dream of his of the first night he'd spent with Cisco Ramon.

 

**

 

The roof of S.T.A.R. Labs was never completely quiet or dark but it was a good place to be alone and smoke a cigarette, especially at night. Hardly anyone stayed in the lab after dark but Cisco’s insomnia and his discomfort around his family made it easy for him to stay at work until 11  most nights. He liked how quiet it got and taking his smoke breaks on the roof kept Caitlin from seeing him and harassing him about it. He was sitting on the ledge with as much of his stuff as he’d been able to shove in his backpack sitting behind him. A lit cigarette was perched between his fingers with a clear half inch of ash hanging off the end of it. Cisco had been too stunned to smoke it much once it was lit.

Cisco looked out over the city and watched the lights all blur as his eyes filled with tears and he let out a choked sob. Things had never been good between him and his family but Cisco had never dreamed that something as simple as his sexual orientation would be the thing that lost him his family and home.

He must have looked like a mess, holding a cigarette and sobbing his heart out on the roof. He was nearly thrown off balance by the sudden feeling of a cool hand on his shoulder and he didn't recognize Hartley’s voice at first because he’d sounded so concerned when he said, “You’re not thinking of jumping, are you?”

Cisco wiped his face on the sleeve of his sweater. “Wh-what?” he asked. Hartley’s arrival had startled him out of crying. He flicked the ash off the end of his cigarette, looked at it for a moment and then ground the butt out on the cement ledge before lighting a new one.

“I noticed the roof-access door was left open,” Hartley said. "I came up to investigate and heard you crying.”

Cisco exhaled a slow stream of smoke. "The polite thing to do is pretend you didn't hear. I'm not going to jump off the roof. If I was going to kill myself, I wouldn't be so melodramatic about it.”

“No,” Hartley said. “I suppose you're the type who slowly poisons himself over the course of years.”

Cisco rolled his eyes and kept smoking. "I hear enough of that from Caitlin.”

Hartley sat down beside Cisco and stared out at the city. “Why are you on the roof of S.T.A.R. Labs in the middle of the night crying like you're in agony?”

Cisco stared at Hartley, disbelieving. “Do you actually care or am I just distracting you?”

Hartley stared back.

"You wouldn't un-” Cisco cut himself off. The sudden, dawning irony was almost enough to make him laugh. “Shit,” Cisco said. “You probably _would_ …” Cisco finished the cigarette and snuffed it beside the last one. He fiddled with his purple lighter between his fingers. Hartley was quiet for a change. Waiting for Cisco to gather his thoughts perhaps. Or maybe he just didn't know what to say. “I, uh, m-my parents-” Cisco's eyes filled with tears again and Cisco wiped them away with the cuff of his sleeve. “Th-they kicked me out.”

Hartley’s hand curled around Cisco's shoulder. Cisco hadn’t noticed that Hartley had never moved it until that moment. “Why?”

Cisco took a deep breath and swallowed a fresh wave of tears. “They… they read my journal and f-found out I'm-” Cisco covered his face with his hands. He’d never said it out loud and now he was going to tell a man he normally couldn't stand?

Hartley waited through a few of Cisco’s soft sobs. “That you’re what?” Hartley asked. There was an edge to his voice. “In a cult? A criminal? An Atheist? Queer?”

Cisco shrugged. “Bisexual,” he said through gritted teeth.

Hartley scoffed. "You're right. I do understand. I know exactly what it's like when the people who are supposed to love you no matter what throw you out for something you can’t help. Am I the first person you’ve come out to willingly?"

“Is it that obvious?” Cisco asked. He was feeling oddly calm. He assumed it was the shock.

Hartley pulled his hand away but he stayed beside Cisco on the roof, still watching the occasional headlights of the few passing cars. "You still have that look of deepest shame when you say the word. I remember what that was like. It’s horrible. But hiding it is worse.”

“How? At least before my parents knew, I had a place to live. Same thing happened to you, right?” Cisco asked.

"My parents gave me the option of Conversation Therapy,” Hartley said.

"Jesus…”

"I told them it was a scam preying on weak-minded bigots. They told me they no longer had a son.” Hartley sighed. "I thought I was going to die from the pain of being disowned but trying to keep being gay hidden was slowly killing me anyway.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Cisco muttered on an exhale of smoke. He coughed slightly. "I don't have anywhere to go.”

“You can sleep on my couch tonight. Take tomorrow off if you need to and I'll talk to Dr. Wells about finding you a place to st-”

“Don't tell Dr. Wells,” Cisco interrupted. “Please.”

Hartley frowned. “He needs to know that you're homeless, Cisco. I won’t out you to anyone if that’s what you're worried about.”

“No, I… I doubt he’d even.. I’m just really tired and embarrassed, we can talk about that later,” Cisco said.

Hartley stood and offered Cisco his hand, which Cisco took without hesitation and Hartley helped him to his feet. “Come on, then,” he said.

Cisco didn't let go of Hartley’s hand as they walked down the stairs and to his surprise, Hartley didn't seem to mind. They made it to the parking lot without Cisco bursting into tears again and got in Hartley’s sedan. He made it halfway through the car ride without tears but only sniffled a bit and let out a few stifled whimpers.

Hartley loaned Cisco a bathrobe and a set of fluffy, clean towels so Cisco could shower and wash off the stink of misery.

Much to Cisco’s surprise, Hartley had queued up Star Wars Episode IV on the big screen in his living room. “I thought we could settle the debate,” Hartley said, gesturing to the screen.

Cisco plopped down onto the expensive looking sofa beside Hartley and raised a brow at him. “What debate?”

“About who shot first,” Hartley said.

Cisco rolled his eyes. “You’ve got the remastered version,” he said. Of course, this was exactly Hartley’s plan. Get Cisco distracted enough to forget about his troubles for a while. Even if they had an argument that almost came to blows. The movie played on in the background, neither engineer paying it any mind. Cisco grabbed Hartley by the collar during one of his more emphatic points and then…

They were kissing.The question of who kissed who was still a hotly debated topic to this day, but they no longer argued over whether it was Han or Greedo who shot first. Better yet, Hartley got to show Cisco what he’d been denying himself for years.


	2. Welcome Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING FOR ATTEMPTED SEXUAL ASSAULT
> 
> Hartley reunites with some old friends.

Hartley jolted awake as the train juttered to a stop in Starling City. He groaned in frustration. The dream had been really getting good. He checked his phone for Cisco’s reply.

**Cisco** : Okay but seriously please come back when the time comes. We really can’t defeat that Dementor without you if you know what I’m saying.

Hartley smiled and grabbed his bag. He was still looking at his phone as he exited the train into Starling City Station. He replied that he would of course return if ever Cisco truly needed him and then dialed Tommy’s number. His smile faded as he listened to the ringing. He knew Tommy would be asleep at this hour but he still had to call ahead. Predictably, it went to voicemail after six rings.

“Thomas, it’s Hartley Rathaway,” Hartley said into the phone. “I’ll be in your pool house when you wake up. Just thought I would warn you.” He hung up the phone and hoped that Tommy would get the message before too late in the day. Hartley would need to eat at some point and he was running out of cash. He didn’t want to use his debit card or go to an ATM in case Snart could somehow trace his banking transactions.

Hartley, fortunately, had enough money to get a cab to the Merlyn estate. It was laughably easy for Hartley to bypass the security, especially now that Malcolm was gone. Getting by the body guards stationed outside had been a fun challenge but Hartley could move in utter silence no matter what he might step on and had a natural affinity for shadows that had nothing to do with metahuman abilities. He laid down on the couch and stared at the ceiling. He half expected Snart to burst in the door any moment and shoot him in the head but he tried to keep himself calm with breathing techniques and going over the Circle of Fourths and Fifths in his head like a nursery rhyme.

He was surprised by how quickly Tommy came down in the morning. It was barely seven am when Hartley heard Tommy’s quick, light heartbeat and matching footsteps as the man traipsed barefoot across his lawn and found Hartley already waiting just inside the door to the pool house.

Tommy scooped Hartley up into a bruising hug. “I’m so glad you’re here!” Tommy said. “I’ve been so worried about you since you were disowned and fired and everything and you sorta stopped talking to anyone…”

“Yes, it was a dark period,” Hartley said. “Put me down.”

“Well it lasted too damn long,” Tommy said. He set Hartley on his feet and stepped back. “I mean, okay, I know that all of the stuff with Oliver disappearing happened right after and I wasn’t really there for you at the time or… anytime since-”

“I’ve heard a little about what’s been going on in Starling,” Hartley interrupted before Tommy could devolve into a thousand apologies that Hartley didn’t want.  “I understand why you didn’t reach out again after I so rudely rejected your offer to let me stay here. I should have reached out to  _ you _ after Oliver went missing.”

“It’s all water under the bridge,” Tommy said. “Ollie's back, but I'm sure you already knew that.”

“Yes,” Hartley said. “It was all over the news. I sent wine to Mrs. Queen personally. She was gracious enough to send me a thank you card in her own hand.”

“Well you know she doesn't care what Ozzy and Rachel think,” Tommy said. “Just don't mention her around Oliver. She got lucky in all the crap my dad pulled. She's under house arrest.”

Hartley scoffed. “Practically a slap on the wrist for conspiracy to commit mass murder.”

“Yeah, so Ollie's been staying here,” Tommy said. “Thea, too but she's usually at school, work or at ninja training.”

Hartley raised his eyebrows at that. “ _ Ninja _ training?” he asked. 

“Kendo, Taekwondo, Krav Maga…” Tommy listed off. “I think she's trying to master every style of martial arts before she hits thirty. No clue why.”

“She's a very beautiful young lady, I can think of many reasons she might wish to learn self defense,” Hartley said. 

Tommy winced. “Ah, yeah, you're right,” he said. “Men are terrible.”

“Not just human men either,” Hartley said.

“Oh yeah!” Tommy said, gesturing at Hartley with both hands. “You're from Central City! That's right! Metahumans…” Tommy trailed off. “I wonder what it's like to have powers like that.”

“So far, it seems a terrible burden or incitement into evil,” Hartley said. “I imagine most good metahumans are keeping their heads down.”

“Yeah, except for The Flash, right?” Tommy said. “The Flash is a hero.”

“Yes,” Hartley said. “Central City loves The Flash but he has a heavy burden, if you think about it.”

Tommy shook his head and patted Hartley on the shoulder. “Is the depression getting bad again? It's okay, Hart. You're with friends now.”

“I-” Hartley spluttered, face turning red. He loved Tommy. They'd been friends since they were young children. Always going along to the same fundraisers with their respective parents. He sometimes forgot how well Tommy knew him.

“It's gonna be great, actually,” Tommy said. He wrapped an arm around Hartley's shoulders and strong armed him out of the pool house. Hartley got lost in the frequency of the sound the pool filter was making and he missed a little of what Tommy was saying. “-a huge spread for breakfast, so don't worry, there's plenty for you to join us.”

“Us?” Hartley asked. “Oh, are Oliver and Thea up already? It's not even noon.”

“Things have changed, Hart, we're like…  _ real _ adults,” Tommy said. He let them into the house through the sliding glass door into the breakfast nook. Oliver was already at the table drinking coffee. 

“Hartley,” Oliver said slightly questioningly when he and Tommy came in.

“He snuck into the pool house at like 5am,” Tommy said cheerfully. “Isn't that awesome?”

“How did you get past the security?” Oliver asked, frowning.

“Don't be a grouch, Ollie,” Tommy whined. “We haven't seen Hartley in like,  _ eight years _ . Aren't you glad to see him?”

“Of… of  _ course _ I'm glad to see him,” Oliver said, flustered. “I'm just worried about the security now.”

“You shouldn't be,” Hartley said. He sat down at the table and grabbed a muffin from the basket in the center. “I've been sneaking into the Merlyn's poolhouse since I was 11.”

Oliver nodded and relaxed in his seat somewhat. “Right,” he said. “I remember.” He eyed Hartley with an unreadable look. Oliver changed since the last time Hartley had seen him. He was so serious now. Oliver's expression smoothed out into a smile soon enough. “I  _ am _ glad you're here, Hartley. Thea will be delighted.  We've all been worried about you ever since the fight you had with your parents.”

“D-did I ever say I'm sorry about that, Hartley?” Tommy stammered.

“What?” Oliver interjected. “That had nothing to do with you, did it, Tommy?”

“The only thing it had to do with was my parents hideously old fashioned ideals,” Hartley said. “I don't think there's any need to drag up the past.”

Thea joined them a moment later. Hartley smiled when he heard her slow, light footsteps approaching the room and how they faltered along with her heartbeat when she saw Hartley at the table. 

“Hart!” she exclaimed. She hurried over to the table and slapped Hartley across the face. 

“Thea-!” Oliver and Tommy exclaimed, both half rising but Hartley held up a hand to stop them from intervening.

“That was for leaving,” Thea said. She slapped Hartley again. “That was for saying ‘fuck you' to Tommy instead of staying here.” It wasn't a very hard blow and she was hugging him before Hartley had a chance to get out of his chair. “It's so good to see you. Don't you ever leave like that again.” She released Hartley and raised her hand as if she might strike him again.

Hartley was a little overwhelmed. He hadn't expected Thea or Oliver to care in the slightest that he was here. Even if they had all known each other since Thea was a toddler. Hartley had always felt that he was more on the fringe of their circle. Not someone worth missing enough to warrant such a strong reaction. “H-how are you, Thea?” Hartley stammered. 

“I’m fine,” she said. She lowered her hand. “Never mind me. We were so  _ worried _ about you.”

“Yes, everyone keeps saying that,” Hartley said. “I’m fine. You all have been through more trials than I these past few years.”

“Yeah, but…” Thea trailed off. She released Hartley and looked at Oliver and then Tommy before returning her gaze to Hartley. “But we all had each other. It wasn't fair, you know.  _ We _ didn't disown you but thanks to your dumb parents…”

“It's okay, Thea,” Hartley said. “Really, I’m fine now.”

“So, did you come back to work for Tommy, or what?” Thea asked. She took the seat directly beside Hartley and grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl. 

Hartley blinked in surprise. “I hadn't discussed any business matters with Thomas.”

Tommy sat across from Hartley, beside Oliver and started pouring coffee from the samovar between the muffins and fruit into three cups. He passed one to Thea and one to Hartley. He kept the third for himself.  “Yeah there's been a bit of restructuring going on with Merlyn Global,” he said. “I was gonna get into that. I was lucky the government couldn't seize all of my dad's assets. He was smart enough to keep most of it in trusts for me and Thea- oh, uh, whoops…” Tommy looked over at Thea. Oliver was sighing and shaking his head.

“And  _ why _ did Malcolm have a trust set up for Thea?” Hartley asked.

Thea huffed. “I guess it's okay for  _ you _ to know. Malcolm is my biological father.”

Hartley was so stunned by this news that he couldn't think to say anything. It wasn't that he hadn't had suspicions but never expected it to  _ really _ be true.

“ _ Anyways _ ,” Tommy said, keen on changing the subject. “He also made me majority shareholder in Merlyn Global before he got caught in that scheme so…”

“So  _ you _ control the Merlyn fortune?” Hartley asked. “And the company? Do you know what you're  _ doing _ ?”

“Uh,” Tommy sighed. “Sort of? I pay smarter people than me to run the company. I just collect dividends and attend some board meetings sometimes. Anyway, I need someone I trust to help run Palmer Tech. We actually  _ just _ acquired it.”

“Palmer Tech? Why? I was under the impression that Palmer Tech was successful in its own right,” Hartley said.

“Yeah but the CEO had to leave town indefinitely,” Oliver said. “Ray Palmer. He's involved in some top secret government project so he transferred majority share in his company to a friend of mine named Felicity.”

“But Felicity doesn't know how to run a company at all so I bought her out,” Tommy said. “I’ll give Ray his company back when he gets home. I just don't want it to go under before then. Ray's a good guy. He gave the whole city free electricity just to be  _ nice _ .”

“So, what do you need me to do?” Hartley asked. “I am an engineer, not a businessman.”

“You worked in upper management at STAR Labs, right?” Tommy asked. “So you have experience as a lead engineer. We need a lead engineer in charge of Innovation. Pay is  _ really _ good.”

Hartley started picking at his muffin and took a sip of the coffee Tommy had passed to him. “That might be a good fit,” he said. “I appreciate the offer. When would you like me to start?”

“You can start tomorrow,” Tommy said. “For today, I wanna hang out and catch up. It's been too long. I've missed you.”

“We  _ all _ missed you,” Thea said. She looked at her watch. “I wish I could stay longer and hear about what you’ve been doing all this time but I gotta get going.” Thea stood and gave Hartley a pat on the shoulder.  Please stick around for a while. You should come out to my club tonight. It's always packed with cute guys.” Thea hurried off, no doubt late for training of some kind or another.

“Thea owns a club?” Hartley asked, surprised and impressed. 

“Yeah, in the Glades. It's called Verdant,” Tommy said. “We can all go tonight, right Ollie?”

“Uh,” Oliver looked up from the newspaper he was reading. “Tonight? I don't know yet. I have a few things I need to get done today. I'll really try, though.”

Tommy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, alright, me and Hart will just go shopping without you while you do your errands.”

Hartley paused with a piece of muffin in his hand, halfway to his mouth. “I didn't realize we were going shopping,” he said.

Tommy nodded while he swallowed a mouthful of coffee. “Yeah. I saw your bags. You barely brought anything with you. You're gonna need suits for work and something to wear to the club tonight, right?”

“I… I suppose so but-”

“Don't worry, it's on me,” Tommy said. “It’s the least I can do.”

“You're already giving me a job,” Hartley said. “You don't owe me-”

“Just let me do something nice for one of my oldest friends, okay?” Tommy said, suddenly serious. “I feel bad about everything that happened. It'll make me feel better.”

“Well, alright, I suppose,” Hartley said. He sighed. “Thank you, Thomas. I appreciate your help.”

“You're welcome, now come on, let's go pick out which car we're gonna take today,” Tommy said. 

It was more like what Hartley had grown up around. Expensive cars, fancy clothing boutiques, ignoring price tags… but as Hartley shopped with Tommy, he couldn't help feeling like he didn't belong in this life at all. This life had been stolen from him when he was disowned by his parents. He’d thought they'd taken his friends as well. But Tommy had embraced him like he hadn't been exiled at all. Oliver was awkward but Tommy assured him that it was just his residual trauma from being stranded on a primitive island for five years. It had been Thea's reaction that had totally thrown him, however. She'd been so happy to see him. Hartley knew her slaps were meant with affection. They'd barely stung. It left Hartley feeling a little guilty. He wished she'd slapped him harder. Tommy's gift of suits and lovely silk shirts had only compounded his feelings of guilt.

He was quiet and dour when they stopped shopping and headed to a nice quiet bistro for lunch. Tommy kept up the conversation by filling Hartley in on the latest gossip. Telling him how Queen Consolidated had gone under in the wake of Moira's trial. “So anyway, me and Thea set up an account to pay the expenses at the Queen house and keep Moira from starving, pay her legal fees... but we don't visit her much,” Tommy finished telling Hartley as their meals were brought to them by a silent, stone faced waitress. 

“It's more than she really deserves,” Hartley said.

“Yeah, I agree,” Tommy said. “It's not for Moira, really. It's for Ollie's sake. He'd feel too bad if she was out on the streets. Thea was ready to throw her to the dogs but…” Tommy shrugged. “We're trying to be better people than our parents.”

“That is very noble,” Hartley said. “So if Moira's assets were seized, where does that leave Oliver?”

“Ah, yeah…. That's kinda why Ollie is  _ so _ grumpy,” Tommy said. “He's living off me and Thea. Neither of  _ us _ mind at all, of course but Oliver has an obnoxious amount of pride.”

Hartley laughed. “Naturally,” he said. “But what else can he do? It's not like Oliver has many marketable skills.”

“Hey, man, go easy,” Tommy said, waving a hand. “It's not his fault he got stranded on an island from hell for five years.”

“I'm not blaming him,” Hartley said. He raised a hand placatingly.  “Whatever level of normalcy he has managed is nothing short of miraculous. He must have an excellent psychiatrist.”

Tommy coughed slightly. He'd swallowed his sip of water wrong. “I'm okay,” he said. “Uh, just… Ollie's not in therapy…”

“I see,” Hartley said softly. 

“It'll be really good having you around,” Tommy said. “The bigger the support system, the better, right?”

“I don't know that I will be much help,” Hartley said patiently. “I am not very good with…  _ feelings _ .”

Tommy laughed and leaned back in his chair. “I know, Hart,” he said. “You don't need to be good at feelings. You just have to be there and listen.”

Hartley managed a real smile at last. Leave it to Tommy Merlyn to help Hartley figure out his next move. “You're a  _ brilliant _ and good person, Thomas,” Hartley said. He raised his tea to Tommy in salute.

Tommy's brow furrowed in confusion. “Are you making fun of me, Hartley? You're a _ super _ genius. And I'm… well, I'm not  _ entirely _ an idiot…”

“Not at all!” Hartley insisted. “You possess an innate wisdom about emotions that I don't have. I admire that.”

“Oh, so you're  _ flirting _ with me,” Tommy teased, quickly smiling again knowing he wasn't being insulted.

“Well, you  _ did _ buy me expensive clothing and a meal, so…” Hartley gave Tommy a suggestive look up and down. “I think a little praise is a fair exchange.”

“Oohh, are you going to tell me how pretty I am next?” Tommy asked.

Hartley almost managed to keep a straight face but Tommy batted his eyelashes at him and they both burst out laughing.

“I missed you, Hart,” Tommy said once they’d both stopped laughing. 

“I missed you too,” Hartley said. “All of you. Even Oliver. I never should have bowed to my parents’ will and disappeared from your lives.”

Tommy sighed. The good mood dissipated as fast as it had come on. “It was sort of my fault, though, wasn't it?”

“ _ No _ , Tommy,” Hartley said firmly. “It was all my  _ parents’ _ fault.”

“Yeah, but I mean… at the time I can understand if you didn't want to see me,” Tommy said. “Even if it wasn't my fault, I was still… you know,  _ involved _ .”

“It's in the past,” Hartley said. “I’d rather not dwell on it.”

Tommy nodded. “Right, we'll just move forward.”

“Precisely.”

They finished their lunches in silence after that. Hartley didn't mind. He knew that as soon as they got back into Tommy's Mercedes, Tommy will have started a new conversation..

He was not disappointed. “So,” Tommy said as soon as they were buckled in. “Did you meet anyone special in Central City?”

Hartley chuckled. “As a matter of fact… no,” he said. “I was busy with my career. I had a few flings here and there but there was no one… ah-” Hartley cleared his throat. He couldn't ignore the whine of the lie ringing in his ears before he could tell it. Guilt on top of guilt. “There was perhaps  _ one _ , actually, if I'm honest that was slightly more than the usual.”

“Oh?” Tommy said. He wiggled his eyebrows and started the car. “What made this guy special?”

“He was sweet,” Hartley said. “Gentle, witty. He could be catty sometimes but I like that…” He didn't have to lie to Tommy. He never had. He  _ couldn't _ . He just had to hope Tommy didn't ask the wrong questions. 

“What happened?” Tommy asked, raising his eyebrows but keeping his eyes on the road as he pulled out down the long driveway.

“I was fired,” Hartley said.

“He was your BOSS?” Tommy exclaimed. He almost glanced away from the road at that.

“No.  _ God _ , no,” Hartley said, appalled at the idea of him and  _ Harrison _ . He could gag. “Actually, I was  _ his _ boss.”

Tommy let out a low whistle. “That's somehow worse,” he said.

“Believe me, I know,” Hartley said. “It wasn't like I was using my position as his boss for leverage. I didn’t treat him any differently at work. He stopped talking to me after I was fired. Just…  _ ghosted _ , as the children say. Of course, his work place exploded a few weeks later so…”

“Right, yeah, the accelerator thingy,” Tommy said. “That's weird. A sweet guy ghosted after you got fired?”

“We were sort of just… hooking up, to be honest,” Hartley said. “He was different than my usual fling but there was never any real chance of it going anywhere.”

“Have you ever talked to him again?” Tommy asked.

“Yes, but not about that,” Hartley said. “He just happened to be in the same place as me at the same time. It was hostile at first. Then… we're going to be friends, I think.”

“You deserve an apology,” Tommy said. “Ghosting people is a shitty thing to do. Take it from me. It used to be my signature move.”

“I don't want an apology,” Hartley said. “I don't blame him. It was only ever sex, really. He just happened to be tolerable outside the bedroom too. It’s not like we were close or even really  _ friends _ .”

“Then just be a good friend,” Tommy said. “Maybe he’ll want more than that someday.”

Hartley huffed. “I am not even a good  _ person _ ,” he said. “My moral compass is twisted. Cisco is such a good person without even trying. He deserves someone good and kind…”

“Cisco?” Tommy said. “Where have I heard that name…? Oh, yeah, he’s the one who took care of Barry. Really nice dude. Good looking as hell, too. I tried to get his number but he gave me a hard pass.”

“Wh-what?” Hartley spluttered. He hadn’t even meant to say Cisco’s name and he could kick himself for doing so.  “You met Cisco? You  _ hit on _ him?”

"Y _eah_ , I did, he's  _ gorgeous _ ,” Tommy said. “I obviously didn't know he was your ex. You didn't come up. I went down to Central City with Oliver to visit Barry at STAR Labs while he was in a coma.”

Hartley looked out the window at the drab grey storefronts they passed. “He wasn’t my ex. Who is Barry?” Hartley asked, it was close enough to lying that he felt his insides twist and he couldn't look at Tommy.

He knew  _ exactly _ who Barry was.

“He's some sweet, kinda airheaded CSI from Central City. He was in town for some work before the whole… explosion,” Tommy said. “I don't remember how they met, exactly. But Oliver really took to him. It was the fastest I'd seen him trust and like someone new since he got home.” Tommy smiled. “Then poor Barry got hurt…” He cleared his throat. Eyes on the road.

“That is unfortunate,” Hartley said. “And totally preventable.”

Tommy frowned and glanced at Hartley at the next red light. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“I told Wells it would explode,” Hartley said. “That's why I was fired.”

“Damn…” Tommy shook his head and took a left onto his street. “He fired you for warning him?”

“He admitted the mistake recently, actually, it was on the news,” Hartley said. “It didn't make me feel any better.”

“Yeah, I can see why,” Tommy said. “The damage was already done.”

“Yes,” Hartley said. 

“Well, it sounds like a night of dancing and booze and handsome guys is  _ just _ what you need,” Tommy said. He pulled into the long driveway up to his mansion. “Forget your troubles for a little while and have a good time.”

“That does sound nice,” Hartley said. “I think I need a bath and a nap before anything else, however.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Tommy said. “I've got about 7 guest bedrooms and 4 bathtubs. Take your pick of any of them.” Tommy parked the car and handed the keys off to a butler. The man would park the car in the garage for him and bring in their bags. Hartley had to stop himself from trying to carry in his own shopping.

He just wasn’t used to being waited on anymore.

*-*

The Merlyn mansion was very quiet. Hartley took a leisurely bath and laid down for his nap in one of Tommy's plush guest beds. He was instantly asleep. He woke an hour later to the sound of Tommy and Oliver talking downstairs and remembered Tommy's advice.  _ Just be there and listen _ . So he listened.

“...still can't figure out how he got by two armed guards and all the motion sensors,” Oliver was saying.

“Look, if you're worried about gaps in the security, we can ask Hartley to fix them,” Tommy responded. “He's the smartest guy I've ever met. He knows the grounds and everything, too. It's not like he's some  _ random _ guy.”

“All I'm saying is that it's worth looking into,” Oliver said. “There are  _ bad guys _ out there who are just as smart as Hartley and if one of  _ them _ breaks in, it'll be a problem.”

“I'll hire some extra muscle,” Tommy said. “You're paranoid. I understand why. We'll do whatever it takes to make you feel safe.”

Oliver sighed. “How is he? Hartley. I feel bad that I wasn't as welcoming this morning. I hope he knows I'm glad he's here and  _ alive _ .”

“I think he's depressed,” Tommy said. “But it's definitely not as bad as before… when all that crap happened with his parents.”

Oliver groaned. “Yeah. He was disowned, what? A week before I went on that trip?”

“Yeah…”

Hartley got out of bed silently and walked to the open door to the guest room he was staying in. 

“Why did you apologize to him?” Oliver asked. “You looked so sad…”

Hartley stepped into the hall, annoyed and considering interrupting. But he stopped and kept listening.

“I encouraged him to come out to his parents,” Tommy said. “Then he  _ did _ and they kicked him out.”

“Oh, Tommy…” Oliver said.

Hartley hurried down the stairs.

“I was trying to help,” Tommy said. “He was so miserable, hiding it. I knew Ozzy and Rachel were old fashioned-”

“Bigots,” Oliver interjected.

“I thought they'd come around,” Tommy said. “He was their sole heir. And it was  _ killing _ him, Ollie. He was on the verge of doing something drastic. I thought their son's life was worth more to them.”

“It wasn't,” Hartley said from the doorway to the sitting room. Tommy gave a start but Oliver jumped right out of his chair and whirled around with a wild look in his eye for a moment. “I didn't mean to startle you.”

Oliver took a deep breath. “You make no noise when you move,” he said. “We thought you were asleep.”

“That explains why you felt so comfortable talking about me,” he said. “I would have told you if you had asked.”

Oliver rubbed his chin. “Seemed like you didn't really want to talk about it.”

“I don't,” Hartley said. He stepped into the room. “But I will. Tommy owes me no apologies. It's as he said. I was going to harm myself and he stopped me.”

Oliver looked sad at the news. Pitying. It rankled Hartley but he tolerated it. He could make allowances for Oliver's trauma. His lack of tact. “I should have been there for you,” he said.

“I didn't  _ let _ anyone be there for me,” Hartley said. “Tommy tried and I told him to fuck off. Can we move past this now? I wasn't there for Tommy and Thea after you  _ disappeared _ . I think that makes us all even.”

“No one is keeping score,” Oliver said. “I'm glad you're home, Hartley.”

Hartley gave Oliver an impatient look. “I'm aware,” he said. “You told me this morning. I don't think we have to get all sentimental again. Breakfast was bad enough.”

“I think someone needs a group hug,” Tommy said cheerfully.

Hartley's eyes widened slightly as Tommy took a step toward him. “You wouldn't.”

Oliver sighed and started for Hartley’s other side. Hartley should have known Oliver would do whatever Tommy asked. And vice versa. They were closing in on both sides of him and Hartley just stood there stiff as a board while those  _ idiots _ hugged him.

“E-enough-” Hartley squawked after no more than five seconds. 

Tommy gave Hartley and Oliver a last squeeze before he stepped back. “Feeling less grouchy now, Hartley?”

“If I say ‘yes’ will you refrain from hugging me at least until Christmas?” Hartley asked.

“No promises,” Tommy said. “Go get dressed, we're getting dinner before the club. You're coming, right, Ollie?”

Oliver sighed. “I'm sorry, Tommy, I-”

Tommy shook his head and held up a hand. “I guess I don't really  _ need _ two wingmen.”

Hartley was all too happy to slip away and change into the outfit Tommy had bought him for the club. Black slacks and a purple silk shirt that made his eyes look more vibrantly green. He heard Tommy and Oliver's conversation the whole time he was changing.

“What is it this time?” Tommy asked.

“Barry,” Oliver said simply.

“You going on a  _ date _ ?” Tommy asked a little sharply

He was jealous, Hartley realized as he straightened his collar. That was odd. Hartley had been under the impression that Oliver and Tommy were the  _ sharing _ types.

“N- I-I don't. It's not a date,” Oliver stammered. “Would it matter if it was?”

Tommy let out a sigh through his nose. “I mean, I'd be happier to hear it was a  _ date _ than just about anything  _ else _ it could be.”

Hartley smirked and buttoned his cuffs. Surely even Oliver could see through that lie.

“You  _ would _ ?” Oliver asked.

Hartley had to do some deep breathing not to hit himself on the forehead after hearing that out of Oliver.

“Yeah, it's normal, right?” Tommy said. “You’d be doing something normal.

“I see,” Oliver said quietly.

“Is what you're doing with Barry tonight normal?” Tommy asked.

Oliver paused. “Well, it's not dangerous.”

Tommy sighed again. “Okay,” he said. “Have fun on your weird date with Barry-”

“Not a date,” Oliver interjected. “But a few weeks ago I  _ did... _ kiss him-”

Hartley almost exclaimed out loud. 

“-and he very  _ gently _ … ran away.”

Hartley covered his mouth with both hands to stop himself from laughing. 

Tommy didn't laugh at all. “That sucks,” he said. He sounded genuinely sad that Oliver had been rejected.

And moments ago he had been jealous. Hartley really didn't understand it.

“I'm sorry you struck out with Barry-”

“It's-!” Oliver stopped and took a breath. Hartley heard his feet shift like he was stepping back on his heels. “It's fine,” he said, much more quietly. “He  _ apologized _ to me. It was sweet. And the single most awkward moment of my life.”

“Why would you just  _ kiss _ him?” Tommy asked. “That's what I can't figure out.”

“I…” Oliver cleared his throat. “It's difficult to explain. I thought he wanted to kiss me. I read the mood wrong.”

“It happens to the best of us, apparently,” Tommy said. “He must not be into guys if he shot you down.”

“Somehow, I don't think that had anything to do with it,” Oliver said. “But it's fine. I'm just teaching him.”

“Oh boy,” Tommy said sarcastically. “Try not to hurt him too much. Dr. Snow is a scary lady and I don't think you can take her, Ollie.”

Oliver chuckled. 

Hartley felt it was safe to come back downstairs now. He was very glad he'd taken Tommy's advice. The knowledge that Oliver had (still  _ has) _ a thing for Barry Allen;  _ The Flash _ ; had to be useful.

“I'm serious,” Tommy was saying as Hartley got closer to the room. He didn't silence his movements. He didn't want to startle Oliver again. It was deeply unpleasant. 

“I'm not going to hurt him,” Oliver said. “It'll be fine.”

“Whatever it is sounds far less fun than dancing,” Hartley said. 

“Yep,” Tommy said. “You're missing out.”

“You haven't even been dancing with  _ me _ , yet, Thomas,” Hartley said.

“Yeah, it's gonna be great though, I bet. Did you keep doing ballet in college?” Tommy asked, his focus suddenly only on Hartley.

“Ballet, jazz dance, ballroom…” Hartley listed them off. “I couldn't stand the thought of doing  _ nothing _ but Engineering courses. The creative drive is just as important.”

“That's great, Hartley,” Tommy said. “We'll be the best dancers at Verdant tonight.”

“You're  _ always _ the best dancer at that club, Tommy,” Oliver said with an odd sincerity that made Hartley's skin crawl.

Tommy smiled. “Okay, I forgive you for flaking. But Thea is going to hand you your own ass in the morning.”

“I can handle Thea,” Oliver said. “Have fun.”

“You too,” Tommy said.

It was Tommy's turn to be quiet. Hartley knew that meant he was supposed to say something. But it took him awhile to figure out what. “What happened?” he asked. He knew it wasn't specific enough. But it was, truly, his best.

“What, you mean with Ollie? Nothing,” Tommy said.

Hartley’s silence itself communicated disbelief.

“Okay, when I say…  _ nothing _ ,” Tommy said. “I mean… you… you knew about…”

“About you and Oliver?” Hartley asked. “The whole time.” Hartley blinked in comprehension and turned toward Tommy. “By  _ nothing _ , you don't mean…?”

“You knew the  _ whole time _ ??” Tommy asked.

“Unlike any of our parents, I actually paid attention to you,” Hartley said. “By nothing,” Hartley repeated. “He hasn't-”

“Not once,” Tommy said.

“Since he's been back?” Hartley asked. “Have you talked to him about it?”

“What am I gonna say after… he's been back two years now, Hartley,” Tommy said. “I haven't… not even a  _ kiss _ . Seven  _ years _ . I think I'm losing my mind.”

“Oh, Tommy,” Hartley said. “I assumed you… the  _ two _ of you were…” Hartley frowned. He hated having to say these things aloud but Tommy was near tears. He could hear them collecting in Tommy's tear ducts. “You were just. Inescapably drawn to one another.”

Tommy nodded but he kept his eyes on the road and he didn't start crying.

“You're not losing your mind,” Hartley said. Somehow, that seemed to relax Tommy a great deal. “Perhaps your relationship is changing but Oliver clearly  _ loves _ you.”

“A lot of things have changed,” Tommy said. 

“Not that,” Hartley said.

“So, I'm definitely not crazy?” Tommy asked.

Hartley chuckled sadly. “I am not qualified to attest to your overall sanity,” he said. “He still looks at you the same way.”

Tommy took a deep breath and relief flowed through his body like sand. That was what it sounded like. Hot sand shifting in a breeze. Hartley could hear it. He could practically  _ feel _ it himself. 

It was almost like having empathy. Hartley wasn't sure he liked it. 

“I thought he did,” Tommy said. He pulled the car into the parking lot of the restaurant Tommy had chosen for dinner. “I was  _ sure _ he did. But after seven years, I was starting to doubt my memory. Like maybe i just imagined all the making out and the-”

“I get the picture,” Hartley interrupted. 

“Sorry, yeah,” Tommy said. “I forgot that must be weird for you to hear.” 

“It's  _ uncomfortable _ because you two are like awful older brothers to me,” Hartley said. “Nonetheless. Continue. Delicately.”

“Okay. Awful?” Tommy huffed and engaged the parking brake on his car. “Do you have any advice?”

“You could try kissing him without prompt or warning,” Hartley said. “That should be simple enough. Straight forward. He can't possibly misunderstand.”

Tommy rubbed his eyes and sighed. “That's  _ terrible _ advice. You're a genius. You must know that's  _ terrible _ .”

“It has literally never not worked for me,” Hartley said.

“Maybe you should try that with Cisco,” Tommy said. 

Hartley scoffed. “I see your point,” he said. He shifted down in his seat a little. “We should get inside to eat.”

“Yeah,” Tommy said. He got out of the car and Hartley followed him into the restaurant. Dinner was a little tense and quiet but Hartley knew it wouldn’t last. Sure enough, as soon as they walked into Verdant, Tommy was all smiles. He bought them each a drink and then they got out on the dance floor. The music was so loud, there was no need to bother with conversation. That was perfect, in Hartley's opinion. 

Tommy was an elegant dance partner. Hartley was impressed. But he couldn't help wishing he was dancing with Cisco. It was a relief when some random woman caught Tommy's attention and Hartley slipped off to the quieter section of the bar.

Thea found Hartley fairly quickly. She brought over a bottle of water and handed it to him. “What are you doing all on your own?” Thea asked. “There's a hundred cute guys in here tonight. They can't  _ all _ be straight.”

“Eight of them are not, for certain,” Hartley said. “None I find intriguing.”

Thea laughed. “Yeah, the only really good man in here is Roy and he's mine,” she said.

“I'm glad you've found a good man,” Hartley said. “Your club seems successful. I'm impressed.”

“Thank you, Hart,” Thea said. She smiled at him. “Did you have a fun day with Tommy?”

“Of course,” Hartley said. “I always have fun with him. It's too bad Oliver couldn't join us.”

Thea rolled her eyes. “He is  _ no _ fun anymore. I get why, I just… I think if he would just start doing fun things again, he'd be less… grouchy all the time.”

“It doesn't work like that, unfortunately,” Hartley said. “He's  _ quite _ different now, it's true.”

“Well, at least you seem the same as always,” Thea said. “And you have a  _ brain _ , unlike our idiot boys.”

Hartley looked the way Thea was looking. Tommy was dancing with two women now. Neither of which were the woman Hartley left him with.

“They are both  _ such _ idiots,” Hartley said.

“They’re lucky we love them.” Thea laughed and took hold of the crook of Hartley's arm. “Come on and dance with me.”

“As you wish, princess,” Hartley said. For a moment, he was eight again and Thea was three and he was leading her onto the dance floor of the Queen family's ballroom. He remembered it so strongly that even the sounds of the club were all but unnoticeable. Thea lead and Hartley just copied her movements. Hartley let the bass from the speakers carry him away. He ignored both of the guys who were eyeing him from the sidelines. Neither could hold a candle to Cisco Ramon.

Around midnight, Hartley was starting to get tired. Tommy had disappeared to the bathroom and Hartley gave him ten minutes before he went in after him. Some tall man was pushing Tommy up against a sink and Tommy was clearly too drunk to be doing  _ anything _ with this person. He was seemingly having a good enough time but Hartley just didn't like the looks of it. “Pack it up,” Hartley said, wedging himself between Tommy and the man. “He's not into you.”

“Hartleyy,” Tommy exclaimed and threw his arms sloppily around Hartley's shoulders. “I can handle this guy.”

Hartley didn't take his eyes off the man in front of him who was shuffling his feet uncertainly. Like he was trying to decide if it was worth it to fight Hartley. “Take a hike,” Hartley said, still staring him down.

The man scoffed. “Fine,” he said but Hartley stopped him with a hand on his wrist. “ _ What _ ?” the man roared, now more than just a bit aggravated.

“His wallet,” Hartley said. 

The man scoffed again and tossed Tommy’s wallet at Hartley. Then he staggered out of the bathroom.

Hartley heaved Tommy off his shoulders and let him lean against the sink while Hartley retrieved Tommy's wallet. “I took my eyes off of you for 20 minutes and you're hammered.”

“You're th'best, Hart,” Tommy slurred. 

Hartley stuffed Tommy's wallet in his own pocket and stopped to wash his hands. “I'm taking you home, Tommy,” he said as he rinsed his hands in as hot of water as he could stand. “You were almost assaulted. And mugged.”

Tommy clumsily waved a hand at Hartley. “You called  _ m'Tomny,”  _ Tommy said. He giggled.

“Good lord, Thomas,” Hartley said. He grabbed Tommy by the hand and lead him out of the bathroom. “If I didn't know better, I'd think you  _ took _ something.”

Tommy giggled. “Jus’ vodka cranberries… lotsa vodka…”

Thea spotted Hartley and Tommy and came over to help. Hartley was strong enough to support Tommy but he was short and Tommy was all elbows as Hartley tried to steer him and keep him on his feet. Thea got Tommy's other side and passed the keys to Roy so he could get Tommy's car and pull it around.  

“Sorry,” Tommy mumbled once Hartley and Thea had gotten him outside.

“It's okay,” Thea said. “It's been awhile since I've seen you this drunk, though.”

Tommy blinked hard and propped himself up against the wall while they waited for Roy to bring the car around. “Some guy kept buyin’ me vodka cranberries,” Tommy explained. “They're  _ delicious _ .”

“Was that the same man who tried to mug and molest you in the bathroom?” Hartley asked.

“Wasn' that serious…” Tommy mumbled.

“ _ Excuse _ me?” Thea asked. “Do we need to call the police?”

“I handled it,” Hartley said. “Just hire an extra bouncer to watch the bathrooms.”

“Okay, well, I'll be checking security cams and this would-be mugger is getting banned from Verdant,” Thea said. Her expression was hard and cold. It was almost amusing to Hartley who couldn't help but still see Thea as a little girl. “Do you need Roy to drive you?”

“No,” Hartley said. “I can drive. I only had the one drink around 9:40.”

Thea looked Hartley up and down critically. “Well, okay,” she said. She looked up at the curb. Roy had pulled the car around and was idling. She gestured to him and he got out. “Thanks,” she said and he bent to accept a kiss on the cheek.

“I'll just help Tommy into the passenger seat,” Roy said. He stepped over to Tommy and held a hand out to him.

Tommy draped himself against Roy's side. “Whatta guy,” he mumbled into Roy's jacket. Roy had to lift Tommy off his feet and folded him into the front of the Mercedes.

Hartley took the keys from him, muttered a thanks and got in the driver's seat. It took him half a minute to adjust the seat and mirrors. Meanwhile, Tommy was leaning against the window, drooling a little.

“Why on  _ earth _ would you drink so much?” Hartley admonished Tommy once they were on the road. He drove slowly, carefully. He wasn't convinced Tommy could hold what he drank if he was jostled too much. “You're going to have a very rough morning. We have to be at Palmer Tech at 10 am.”

Tommy groaned and softly thumped his head against the window. “I know,” Tommy said. “Hey, stop at Big Belly…”

Hartley sighed and took a turn off onto a main road so they could swing by the Big Belly Burger. “You probably do need solid food,” he conceded. “Now explain yourself. What possessed you to get so drunk? This isn't a safe neighborhood. Something serious could have happened.”

Tommy groaned again. “Yer bein a nag,” he said.

“I am being a good friend,” Hartley corrected him. He pulled into the drive thru at Big Belly Burger. There was a line of late night guests. “Did you drunk to get away from certain thoughts?”

Tommy sniffled suddenly. “I-I guess I jus'miss ‘im.”

“Miss who?” Hartley pulled forward. They were next in line after a crummy looking Jeep. “Oliver?”

“Yeaah,” Tommy said miserably. “He never comes out wiv me. He’s always… training wiv friggen  _ Barry _ .”

“Is that what he’s doing?” Hartley asked. “Training Barry?”

“S'what he  _ says _ ,” Tommy said. Tommy gestures with his hands. Opening and closing his fists. “Barry's… he's skinny nerd.”

“We've never met,” Hartley said.

“Ollie learned t'fight on that island- I wanna number 3.” Tommy gestured ahead at the little speaker. Hartley pulled ahead and placed the order. He set Tommy's wallet on the dashboard for when they got to the window so it would be all ready when it came time to pay. 

“I thought Oliver was alone on that island,” Hartley said. “Who taught him to fight?”

Tommy shrugged. “But he's good at it now,” Tommy continued. “And Barry’s not a fighter. He's like… a nerd.”

“Yes, you said,” Hartley said. He pulled up to the window and paid the woman with cash from Tommy's wallet.

“So poor Barry needs help wiv delf sedense… self defense,” Tommy wiggled a little, settling down in his seat. “Big bad criminals beating up a poor tech nerd…”

“It's good of Oliver to teach Barry, then,” Hartley said.

So he had learned two things already. Oliver likely knows that Barry is the Flash and Tommy absolutely does  _ not _ .

“Seems like a lot of trips back and forth though,” Tommy said. “Ollie went and visited once but mostly s’like… Barry jus'shows up an'Ollie drops everything.”

Hartley hummed thoughtfully and grabbed the bag and drink from the guy at the second window. He put the cup in the cup holder and handed the bag to Tommy before pulling out of Big Belly Burger’s parking lot.

“I miss ‘im,” Tommy huffed. He dug through the bag and grabbed a few fries. One of them fell to the floor but Tommy didn't seem to notice. He shoved the rest of them in his mouth.

“Yes, I understand,” Hartley said, uncomfortable.

“I'm g'nna kiss him, like you said, I wanna kiss ‘im so bad,” Tommy said. He shoved some more fries in his mouth.

“I would wait until morning, if I were you,” Hartley said. “At the very least. If you kiss him now, he will assume it's just a drunken mistake.”

“S'not,” Tommy said.

“I know,” Hartley said. “Eat your food and drink that big cup of water. I'll help you up to bed when we get home.”

Tommy sniffled a few more times but otherwise ate his fries in silence. He didn't touch the burger. They got home in a few minutes and Tommy vomited in the bushes as Hartley lead him up the walkway to the front of the house. A security guard hurried up to tell Hartley that he would clean up the vomit and vacuum the car before morning. Hartley thanked him and hauled Tommy up the walkway. He was slightly steadier on his feet after puking but still weepy. 

Oliver wasn't home yet. Hartley would have heard his heartbeat and breathing. He sighed in frustration. There went his plan of foisting Tommy off on Oliver. It was only fair. Tommy was  _ clearly _ only this drunk because of Oliver. As Oliver wasn't home, Hartley stayed with Tommy. He helped him into the bathroom and talked him through brushing his teeth. It was nearly 2 in the morning by the time Hartley wrangled Tommy into his bed and Hartley was exhausted. He headed downstairs to get a glass of water to set on Tommy's bedside table and he heard Oliver coming before the other man crept in through the kitchen door.

“Good of you to finally come home,” Hartley said.

Oliver gave a slight start. He apparently hadn't noticed Hartley standing by the sink. “Things ran late with Barry,” he said, apologetically.

“Yes, Thomas  _ said _ you were teaching a man named ‘Barry’ self defense,” Hartley said.

“Yes,” Oliver said. “He's really smart. He's picking things up quickly.”

Hartley hummed thoughtfully. “He must be dedicated,” he said. “Train rides here and back from Central City several times a week. That's a big time commitment.”

“He's taking the lessons  _ very _ seriously,” Oliver said. “I'm proud of his progress.”

“I am curious,” Hartley said. “You never seemed the type to be interested in martial arts. Or really anything that required a modicum of self control or discipline.”

Oliver sighed. “That's fair,” he said. “Things changed. I was fighting for my life every day for five years. I had to learn how to fight. To survive. I’m just trying to do something useful with my experiences. Pass on what I learned.”

“You don't like to talk about your time on the island,” Hartley said. It wasn't a question.

Oliver replied anyway. “No,” he confirmed.

“You should be in therapy,” Hartley said bluntly. “After everything you have been through.”

Oliver sighed. “Look, I appreciate your concern,” he said. “But I'm fine.”

Hartley gave Oliver a hard stare. “No one would be  _ fine _ after what you've been through,” Hartley said. “It’s not a judgement, it's fact. You jump every time something remotely startles you. And even _ I _ can tell you're being far more distant with Tommy than you were before all of  _ that _ happened.”

“No offense, Hartley, but this isn't really your business,” Oliver said.  “It’s late and you have work in the morning.”

Hartley sighed and grabbed the glass of water from the counter. “If you're planning to be up all night, keep an eye on Thomas,” he said as he turned away. “He is quite inebriated. I have never seen him so snookered.”

“What?” Oliver started to pass Hartley but Hartley stopped him and pressed the glass of water into his hand.

“Take that with you, goodness knows I need to get to bed,” Hartley said. He scurried off before Oliver could question him and Hartley heard Oliver tip-toeing into Tommy's room by the time Hartley got himself into bed.

He turned his hearing aids onto the setting that filtered out most sound and pulled the down comforter up to his chin. He fell asleep quickly with the knowledge that Oliver was finally spending time with Tommy. Even if it was under such pitiful circumstances.

  
  



	3. Music Meister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hartley starts his new job and he's already making new enemies in Starling City.

Hartley woke at 8am sharp the next morning and stumbled sleepily to the shower. He came alive and alert under the hot spray. It only took him an hour to shower, shave and get dressed in his new suit. Oliver, helpfully provided him with some reading material from Palmer Tech. The current employee handbook and an overview of their current projects. Hartley read through the documents over his breakfast of coffee and muffin. 

Oliver stuck with Tommy. Plying him with fluids and helping him dress. Tommy looked tired but not as miserable as Hartley expected by the time Oliver dragged him downstairs. 

“We are going to be late,” Hartley said in lieu of a morning greeting.

Tommy groaned. He poured coffee and an obscene amount of sugar into a thermos. “I'm the boss,” he said, still pouring his sugar. The soft ‘swoosh’ of a sound tickled Hartley’s ears. “I don't care if we're late. It's just orientation.”

Hartley cleared his throat to rid himself of the tickle in his middle ear. “Be that as it may, I will be in management,” he said. He tucked his reading material into his briefcase. “My team will respect me more if I am punctual.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tommy grumbled. 

“Hartley has a point,” Oliver said. 

“I got it,” Tommy said a little snappishly. “Hart, can you drive? My head is killing me.”

“Of course,” Hartley said. It was no surprise to him that Tommy was quiet for the ride there. Hartley used his silencing technique to make the inside of the car even quieter than usual to help ease Tommy through his hangover. Tommy dozed off for a few minutes during the commute. Hartley gave Tommy a bottle of water when they got out of the car. “Drink that and  _ then _ the coffee.”

“Ugh, this was so stupid,” Tommy said. “Why did I do this to myself?”

“Based on your ramblings-”

“Oh god,” Tommy interjected softly.

“You were sad about Oliver,” Hartley finished. He started for the front entrance to the building. “Come on, now, you're the CEO. Try to look respectable.”

“I shouldn't even be in charge of  _ myself _ , let alone a whole company,”  Tommy complained as he walked beside Hartley. 

“That's probably true but I wouldn't let your shareholders know,” Hartley said. “Just introduce me to the team and I'll take it from there.”

“Good, because I don't understand anything about what goes on in that part of the company and I don't wanna think about it anymore,” Tommy said.

Hartley just smiled and held the door for Tommy. He couldn't be in a bad mood despite all other circumstances. This job was his  _ dream job. _ The only thing that would make it more perfect would be if Cisco were there working for him.

But that could happen, in time, if Hartley played his cards right. 

 

*-*

 

Hartley had a long day of getting to know his team but it was productive and overall good. He fired one man almost immediately when he noticed how the women on the team reacted to being near him. Their hearts would race and they seemed to go out of their way to avoid him. Hartley had security called up ahead of time which prevented much unpleasantness. He had a meeting afterward and told his remaining team members that they need to tell him immediately if they were uncomfortable for any reason.

The rest of the team seemed fine, as far as Hartley could tell. They worked diligently and were polite. He had very little to do aside from approving projects and assisting here and there when asked. He stayed until the last employee left at 5 o’ clock sharp (company wide policy. No one salaried can be asked to work after 5pm). 

Hartley could see himself doing this job for years. It was his area of interest, he got to boss people around, it paid extremely well but he couldn't help wondering about other possibilities. He had to get a cab home because Tommy had taken the car home as soon as he could leave. While riding in the cab, he thought about S.T.A.R. Labs, about working with The Flash and, more importantly, Cisco.

Being close to Cisco was, by  _ far _ , the most alluring part of the daydream. Hartley would be able to watch Cisco’ hands fly across a keyboard or build something. He could see Cisco's hair and  _ hear _ it move again. Since the particle accelerator had left him with his enhanced hearing, he had heard music in plenty of mundane things but his favorite song so far had been the one played in the strands of Cisco's hair whenever he moved.

Hartley sighed softly and realized he was gazing out the window in what could appear to be a wistful manner. He shook himself out of his daydream and the reality of his situation closed in. He couldn't be near Cisco. He had to stay as far away from Leonard Snart’s favorite city as he possibly could. Even Starling was probably too close but Hartley had  _ really _ needed Tommy’s help. 

He'd have to stay. He’d have to stop daydreaming about Cisco Ramon. It would have been helpful if Cisco hadn't texted him just then.

**Cisco** : Found Ronnie/Stein. Got them separated. Booyah!

**Hartley** : Good, I am glad.

**Cisco** : You good over there?

**Hartley** : I already have a new job. Working at Palmer Tech.

**Cisco** : Cool! Yeah I helped Ray finish his suit while Barry was in a coma. He’s a really nice guy.

**Hartley** : Thomas Merlyn owns Palmer Tech now. 

**Cisco** : Yeah Ray got recruited for a top secret project of some kind. He came by for a tune up last month before he left. He said he was leaving the company with Felicity, though?

**Hartley** : She sold to Merlyn Global Group. Thomas said he would give it back when Raymond returns.

**Cisco:** Do you think he really will? Idk Tommy Merlyn much but he seemed kinda, uh, sleazy

**Hartley** : He does come across that way, but I promise you he is a good man.

**Cisco** : I believe you but he hit on me right in front of my coma patient, so… 

**Hartley:** He will do right by Raymond, don’t worry.

Hartley put his phone away as they were pulling up to the house. He got out and tipped the driver but stopped short of going inside. He cloaked himself in silence and listened.

He could hear Tommy, Thea and Oliver arguing. Their upset tones reached Hartley before he could sort out the words.

“...TELL me when something like this happens!” Oliver was saying.

“I don't even remember it, Ollie!” Tommy interjected. “And nothing happened. Hartley put a stop to it quick.”

“How do you know nothing happened? You don't remember,” Oliver said. He sounded pained.

“Hartley would have said something if it had escalated,” Thea cut in. She was the most calm of them. “Unlike you, Hartley was actually  _ there _ .”

“Thea-” Oliver started but Thea was already stomping off. Oliver sighed. “Look, Tommy…”

“It's fine,” Tommy said. “Some guy felt me up a little and tried to steal my wallet. Not a big deal.”

“I can't stand the thought of anything happening to you,” Oliver said. His voice had gone all soft and sad. 

Hartley couldn't take anymore of that sappy tone. He opened the doors, causing the security system to beep softly in caution. Oliver hurried into the entrance hall while Hartley was taking off his shoes. “Hello, Oliver,” he said in his usual bored, neutral tone.

“What happened last night?” Oliver demanded.

“Hello to you, too, Hartley. How was your day? Oh, it was fine, I fired someone right off the bat so I was in a good mood all day until my roommate was needlessly rude the second I got home,” Hartley drawled. He knew he was just riling Oliver up but he just couldn't help himself.

“This is  _ serious _ ,” Oliver snapped. 

“Hey, don't be rude to Hartley just because you're  _ upset _ ,” Tommy said, jogging into the room. 

“Nothing happened,” Hartley said. “Something may have  _ almost _ happened but nothing  _ happened _ .”

Oliver sighed aggravatedly. “Some guy-  _ molest- _ ”

“He  _ barely _ touched me!” Tommy said. “I kind of…  _ almost _ remember. He was hot. I probably would have hooked up with him sober. And yeah, he stole my wallet. Hartley got it back. No harm done.”

Oliver pressed his palms together as if praying and took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said. “I’m sorry. Maybe I overreacted.”

“I put a stop to it  _ very _ quickly,” Hartley said. He was starting to feel uncomfortable with how upset Oliver had been. He never used to mind bothering Oliver. He'd played the part of irritating little brother well in their youth. It was hard not to fall back into the habit. “The trash only managed to pick Tommy's pocket and grind on him a little.” 

Oliver didn't say anything for a moment. “Who was this guy?” he asked. His voice was suddenly calm and his expression controlled.

It gave Hartley a chill up his spine. “Did you hear what I said?” Hartley asked. “This contemptuous worm of whom we speak is worth zero further thought. There's no point bothering to learn his name.”

“If I wanted to know his name, I'd know it,” Tommy said. “The smartest people in the world work for me. I coulda had someone already look him up and had his address and a whole dossier on him if I wanted.” Tommy laid a hand on Oliver's shoulder. “Just… let it go, Ollie. He’s just some jerk.”

Oliver ground his teeth. It was like nails on a chalkboard times ten for Hartley. He couldn't help but cringe. It was all he could do not to flee entirely. 

“Fine,” Oliver said after what felt like an eternity. “If you change your mind…”

“You'll be the first to know,” Tommy said.

Hartley took his leave, then. Tommy and Oliver were getting uncomfortably close to affection. Hartley couldn't entirely block out their voices even by leaving the room but he didn't have to be near it. It was revolting to him on some level but it also made him feel somewhat excluded. Not that he wanted that kind of attention from either of  _ them _ .

As Hartley walked down the hall, his phone vibrated in his pocket. A text that had to be from Cisco. He hurried to his room and shut the door behind him. He pulled the phone out of his pocket and opened his conversation with Cisco. 

**Cisco** : Is it cool if I text you sometimes and not just with updates and *labs probs?

Hartley stared at the text, his heart racing. It took him a few moments to regain his composure. Maybe Cisco didn't mean what Hartley thought. 

He swallowed hard and tapped out his reply. 

**Hartley** : You want to converse, you mean?

Cisco's reply was swift and in several pieces.

**Cisco** : yeha

**Cisco** : yeah*

**Cisco** : if you want

Hartley laughed. 

**Hartley:** I hadn't thought you were that interested in talking to me socially.

Cisco's reply took a while. Hartley busied himself with changing out of his suit. 

**Cisco** : I know before we mostly did stuff that didn't involve much chatting but I think that was a mistake.

Hartley was still puzzling that out when Cisco clarified.

**Cisco** : the not talking much was a mistake. The sex was great, obv. No regrets there.

**Hartley** : Text me whenever you wish about whatever you feel like talking about. 

**Cisco:** Right. Cool

Hartley sighed. Cisco had given him the perfect opening to say something flirtatious, steer the conversation more toward sex. Maybe even convince Cisco to send him pictures...

Hartley shook his head as if he could shake the thoughts from his mind.  _ Be a good friend _ . Just because Cisco mentioned that they used to hook up, that didn't give Hartley leave to hit on him. He already spoiled his chance with Cisco long ago. He was lucky he was allowed to be Cisco's friend.

Only a few moments later, Hartley heard Tommy and Oliver's tones of voice return to more casual conversation so he decided to head down to the living room again. It was tempting to hide away in his bedroom and pretend the others didn't exist but Hartley thought that would be rude. After all, Tommy was being so gracious a host. Hartley headed downstairs in time to see Thea off. Thea had to get to the club to prepare for the Friday night crowd. Hartley said good bye to her at the door while Tommy and Oliver were in the kitchen playfully arguing about what to order for dinner.

“Don't tell Ollie or Tommy but I am going to find out the name of the guy who mugged Tommy,” Thea said to him in a low voice, lingering at the door.

“Of course you are,” Hartley said. “And I'm sure that your justice will be fitting and  _ speedy _ .”

Thea smirked. “Yeah, well, I’m gonna ban him from the club, at the very least,” Thea said. “But, you know, in this town, creeps like him get visits from The Canary.”

Hartley smiled. One of his rare  _ real _ smiles. Even his fake ones were rare enough. “I've heard of The Canary,” he said. “I admire her work.”

“She really is something,” Thea said, smiling back. “She has a way of finding guys like these on her own sooner or later. I must admit, I'm looking forward to it.”

“I’d like to wrench the teeth from his foul mouth personally but…. Thomas  doesn't want any of us to dirty our hands on his account,” Hartley said. 

Thea nodded and lowered her voice further. “He really didn't do any more to Tommy than you said, right?”

“What I said was bad enough,” Hartley said. “That creature would not have lived had he gone further.”

Thea nodded again. “Thanks, Hart,” she said and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Hartley watched her leave before closing the door. He joined Oliver and Tommy in the kitchen. Naturally they argued about dinner in the kitchen despite neither of them suggesting that anyone cook. Hartley rolled his eyes before he stepped foot in there. 

“Oh, good, Hartley,” Tommy said. He'd spotted Hartley in the doorway. “You can settle our disagreement.”

“Hold on,” Oliver said. He held a hand up to Tommy and gave Hartley a hard stare. Hartley heard his heart rate pick up briefly. He was impressed by how quickly it went back to normal. “I didn't hear you come in at all.”

“I don't tend to lumber around,” Hartley said. “Odd you keep bringing it up.”

“I don't like being snuck up on,” Oliver said. “It makes me anxious.”

“Ollie, come on,” Tommy said. “Hartley's a dancer, he moves all elegantly and quiet because he dances.” He mimed waltzing in place with an invisible partner.

“Elegantly?” Oliver echoed. His tone one of disbelief.

“Anyway, Hartley,” Tommy said. “Mexican or Chinese?”

“Whichever one was  _ your _ choice,” Hartley said, just to goad Oliver. He knew Tommy's choice was Mexican. He'd heard every word of their asinine argument. Hartley wasn't in the mood for Chinese food anyway.

“Just…  _ please _ try to make some sort of sound when you're approaching,” Oliver said, ignoring Hartley's childish remark.

“I make no promises,” Hartley said. “I can't help moving the way I do. It's as Tommy said, I move elegantly by nature.”

Oliver let out a long slow sigh.

“I thought I would also point out that it is possible to order food from two different places,” Hartley said.

Oliver and Tommy stood still and silent for a moment, apparently stunned.

“See, this is why we missed you, Hartley,” Tommy said beaming and shaking his head a moment later. “I never would have thought of that. Me and Ollie would've argued for another 20 minutes and ended up getting pizza.”

Hartley sighed and shook his head. “Yes, well,. I'll have whatever  _ you're _ having, Thomas.”

Hartley heard Oliver's heart start racing again. It didn't slow as quickly this time.  _ Interesting _ . Hartley hadn't thought he'd said anything particularly provocative. He couldn't understand the reaction but he was intrigued.

And then he began to feel  _ guilty _ again. He really had to stop tormenting Oliver this way. It was so childish.

But he couldn't help himself.

“Oh! Good!” Tommy exclaimed. “We can split a nacho volcano!”

“That sounds horrifying,” Hartley said. He was smiling, however. It wasn't a real smile but he knew he had to force the expression or Tommy might take it the wrong way. “ _ Absolutely _ what I need right now.” 

“Uh oh,” Tommy said. “Guy trouble?”

Hartley shook his head. “The key to avoiding guy trouble is to stay away from them,” he said.

“What?” Oliver said. He had a bottle of water clutched in his hand. He was squeezing it a little harder than necessary. The whine of the plastic was not pleasant to Hartley's ears.  “You're not seeing anyone?”

Hartley managed not to wince at the sound the plastic had made and turned a frown on Oliver. He paused, however, he had to try not to pester Oliver on purpose even though it was his instinct to do so. “Not for a while, no,” Hartley said.

“You're not even hooking up with anyone?” Oliver asked. He had that ‘concerned older brother’ look on his face. Hartley hated that expression. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” Hartley said. 

“He's hung up on his ex,” Tommy said. Hartley scowled at him. “What? That's why, right?”

“There is no ex,” Hartley said. “You misconstrued-”

“Yeah, you said you weren't actually dating but you're  _ totally _ still hung up on him, right?” Tommy asked.

Hartley's scowl grew deeper and he crossed his arms over his chest. “I am not hung up on anyone,” he said.

“Who are we talking about?” Oliver asked. He was standing straighter. Alert. He reminded Hartley of a hunting dog. “Did someone  _ mistreat _ you?”

“No, I… it's none of your business,” Hartley said. He took a deep breath and unfolded his arms. He stood that way for a few seconds while Tommy and Oliver stayed blessedly silent. After a few moments of deep breathing, he rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, pushing his glasses up a little and finally managed to compose himself. “It was nothing. A fling. I haven't been with anyone since simply because I despise most people. It's very difficult to find someone I can stand for more than 45 minutes.”

“That's fair and very true,” Tommy said, nodding sagely. It was almost endearing. “I’m sorry, I didn't realize it was a sore subject.”

“Feelings and emotions?” Hartley said, exasperated. 

“Also fair,” Tommy said.

“Alright, never mind, let's order food,” Oliver said. “Is the nacho waterfall big enough for 3 people?”

Hartley could tell that Oliver was far more relaxed now but he didn't understand why.

“It’s a nacho  _ volcano _ . It’s too big for  _ four _ people,” Tommy said. He was already ordering it on his phone using the restaurant’s app. “It's _ so _ good though.” Tommy went on to elaborate on the different toppings. Hartley zoned out as much as his hearing would allow. It was very difficult not to think of Cisco now that Tommy had brought him up. He was just glad Tommy hadn't mentioned Cisco's name. Oliver had obviously met him. He was likely to run into him if he was hanging around Barry. He didn't want Oliver to have that information. It made his skin crawl.

Luckily, it seemed that Tommy understood at least  _ that _ much.

 

*-*

 

Hartley regretted the nacho volcano. Heartburn woke him up at 3 in the morning. He groaned and got out of bed. He turned the volume on his hearing aids back up and headed down the long hallway to the medicine closet. There was a variable pharmacy of items in the closet and it was impossible to spend less than five minutes searching for anything. The antacid took Hartley a full ten minutes to find. He had the whole weekend off and he already knew how he planned to spend it….

Or he  _ did _ know, for a moment but he heard haunting singing from somewhere in the distance. He went to adjust the volume on his hearing aids again but found himself mesmerized by the song. He  _ had _ to hear it more clearly.

He didn't hesitate. It was almost as if his slippered feet carried him off on their own. Before he knew it, he was in the yard, the haunting notes were carried to him in the chilly April breeze and he couldn't help but move toward them. 

“... _ follow my lead, I'll show you how…” _

It never once occurred to him as he was walking that the circumstances were odd. He was in his pajamas walking the Merlyn Estate after 3 in the morning. To Hartley, it just seemed like the thing to do.

“... _ make your heart merry and light _ …”

He didn't know how long he walked, all he knew was that he felt warm and peaceful. He'd never felt so comfortable in his own skin. Yes. This was right. He could sing along, now. The melody was repetitive and he could hear the other two voices that were singing.

The woman's voice was first. “ _ The Music Meister will take all your sorrows away. Follow me, I'll show you how. I’ll wash away your pain _ ”

Hartley sang along with the other voice. Another man. “The Music Meister will take all my sorrows away.”

“ _ Let the music fill you and make your heart merry and light. Trust in me, walk in line. The end is in your sight _ . ”

“The Music Meister will make my heart merry and light.”

There was a key change and the song transitioned into a bridge. The woman’s voice was louder still and the tone was darker but it still comforted Hartley. It was all that Hartley could hear and he was content. He was  _ free  _ and this woman’s voice would show him how to hold onto that freedom forever. 

_ “Now that you’re under my spell. I confess, I know your heart well. I’ve traveled the worlds to find you. I’ve written this song to bind you. My music fills your body and head. Now step into the water and inhale until you’re deaaaad _ ~”

Hartley was cold now, and he couldn't breathe, but he didn't mind. Even as his mouth and lungs were filling with water and the silence pressed in around him, as he was going dizzy and numb-

Then he experienced a curious sensation like he was being pulled backward through something thick and gelatinous. A moment later, he was choking and coughing and vomiting water onto the grass. His head was spinning. He couldn’t understand why he had done such a stupid thing. Why he had  _ wanted _ to do it. He still half wanted to leap back into the water and-

When he finally stopped retching, he was hauled to his feet by Thea, of all people. She slapped him across the face and all thoughts of going back into the water were banished. The last threads of whatever hold that song had had on him were fraying and disappearing. It had all just left Hartley feeling miserable and foolish and cold.

“Wh-what were you thinking? Were you sleep walking?” she demanded. “Sleepwalking and sleep singing?”

“Wh-where are we?” Hartley asked. He didn't have his glasses. He couldn't see at all. He had a vague idea that he was on the Merlyn’s vast estate somewhere. Either by the pool or the pond but he couldn’t be sure. He hadn’t been focused on the direction he’d been walking and it was so  _ dark _ .

“Oh my god,” Thea cried out. She threw her arms around Hartley and nearly throttled him. “You must have been sleep walking. You didn't do this on purpose? Y-you wouldn't…”

Hartley, for once, hugged Thea back. “No, I-I don't really know what happened “

“I g-got home from the club and I heard you singing. I came back here to find you and… by then you were in the p-pool and it looked like-”

Hartley hugged Thea tighter. “Let's go in,” he said.

“Of course, you must be freezing,” Thea said. She hauled him into the house through the glass door that lead to the kitchen and ran to get towels. “Idiots!” she yelled in the direction of Tommy's and Oliver's rooms as she rushed around. “Wake up!”

She brought the towels to Hartley in the kitchen and immediately wrapped them around both of them and started scrubbing Hartley's hair with one. She was calm and businesslike already even though she’d been in such a panic moments ago. Hartley appreciated that a lot in this moment. He could hear Tommy and Oliver getting out of bed, both with elevated heart rates. They were in the kitchen more quickly than Hartley would have thought possible.

“What happened?” Oliver demanded.

“Hart! Thea! You're soaked!” Tommy exclaimed at nearly the same time. 

“I… it's very strange,” Hartley said. “I am not sure what happened. One moment, I was in bed, the next, Thea was saving me from drowning.”

“That's all?” Tommy asked. He was standing awkwardly near Hartley, holding his hands out like he wanted to grab him. 

Hartley wiped his face with the towel. “I would… I would prefer to change and get my glasses on before we discuss this,” he said. He couldn't lie to Tommy but he could delay answering him. For a while. “I need to… to figure out… I have to try and calm down first.”

“I'm coming with you,” Thea said. “I won't ask anything but I'm not leaving you by yourself right now.”

Hartley walked off without responding. He knew there was no point protesting and as he expected, Thea followed him all the way to his bedroom. She leaned against the wall outside, not looking into Hartley's bedroom but she shoved the door open when Hartley tried to close it behind himself. She didn't talk but Hartley could hear Oliver and Tommy speculating about what had happened.

“Did he fall in the pool?” Tommy was asking. “Or one of the ponds?”

Hartley shed his wet clothing and dropped them along with the towels onto the floor. 

“He smelled like chlorine so he was definitely in the pool,” Oliver said. 

“He was in his pajamas and one slipper,” Tommy said.

“Does he sleepwalk?”

“Maybe.”

Hartley grabbed one of the towels off the floor and scrubbed his body dry with it. He was more careful with his hair.

“He never sleep walked when we were kids,” Tommy said. “At least, not that I knew of.”

“You don't think he did it on purpose?” Oliver asked in a hushed voice that reached Hartley's ears as if Oliver had whispered directly in them.

“No,” Tommy said immediately. “He wouldn't drown himself. And definitely not here.”

“It’s… really bizarre,” Oliver said. “I hope he’s okay…. Maybe we should be taking him to a hospital right now?”

“Not unless he says he wants to go,” Tommy said. “You don’t wanna have  _ that  _ argument with Hartley Rathaway. Trust me.”

Hartley got redressed in the only other pair of pajamas he had. Tommy had bought them. They were silk and dark green. Hartley pulled a bathrobe over it. He was still chilled from… the incident. 

“Are you done?” Thea asked. She leaned around the doorway and peeked. “Okay, good. Now come downstairs and explain why you scared the hell out of me.”

“I can’t explain,” Hartley said. “I don’t know what happened.”   
  
“Yeah?” Thea said. She eyed Hartley up and down critically. “Go say that to  _ Tommy’s  _ face.”

Hartley gave a start.

“ _ Yeah _ , Mr. Cool,” she said. “I know you can’t lie to him. I don’t know why but I don’t care either.” She walked into Hartley’s bedroom and grabbed him by the elbow, hauling him out into the hall. Hartley hadn’t really registered before how strong she was before when she’d pulled him out of the pool. It was his first opportunity to experience a display of her strength and he hadn’t exactly been paying attention to that in the moment. He allowed Thea to pull him along, something only she would ever be able to get away with. 

Tommy and Oliver were standing in the same places as when Hartley and Thea left. 

“What happened?” Tommy asked.

Hartley sighed, resigned. “I woke up at three am because I had heartburn,” he said. “And I heard singing.”

“Singing?” Oliver said. “I didn’t hear any singing…”

“You were asleep,” Hartley said. “And I cannot confirm that it was real. It felt like a dream. I was compelled to find the source of the noise so I walked toward it. When I came to my senses, Thea was dragging me out of the pool. I’ve  _ no idea _ why I did that.”

“So you were sleepwalking?” Oliver asked. “Do you do that a lot?”

“Never, that I know of,” Hartley said. “But it is difficult to know what one does while one is asleep.”

“I didn’t hear anyone singing but you, Hartley,” Thea said. “You were singing something about… about someone called Music Master?”

“Meister,” Hartley said, feeling ever more foolish by the moment as they talked about it. However, his time drying off and changing had allowed him time to recover his wits and defense mechanisms. “It must have been a dream. Perhaps being in this house again has triggered a sleep disturbance of some kind.” 

“But heartburn woke you up, right?” Oliver said. “You shouldn’t be able to feel pain in your sleep so that couldn’t have been part of a dream.”

“Yes it could,” Hartley said. He sighed. “That is part of why I think it is  _ likely _ to have been sleep walking. My dreams are different from the norm. I smell, taste and feel things in them. I always have.”

“I didn’t know that about you,” Tommy said. “That’s weird. Kinda cool, though.”

“It’s not cool!” Thea said sharply. “Hartley almost drowned himself because he was dreaming? That’s not okay. We have to do something about that.”

“Are we sure it was a dream?” Oliver asked.

“What else could it be?” Hartley asked. “I would never do something like that. Firstly, I hate swimming. Secondly, if I were to attempt to kill myself, I would never do it where I could be feasibly be rescued before carrying out the deed.”   
“Do you think  _ that’s _ funny?” Thea demanded.

“H-hey, look,” Tommy said. “I think we’re all… a little bit too worked up right now so how about this? How about we all go to bed and talk about this in the morning, okay? I’ll have one of the maids go get us some cronuts and coffee and we can talk about this over Saturday morning cartoons in the home theater.”

Oliver and Thea shared a look that clearly had some hidden meaning but Hartley couldn’t make sense of it.

“Fine,” Thea said. “But Hartley’s sleeping in my bed with me tonight. I’ll wake up if you sleep walk again.”

Hartley  _ hated _ this idea but in addition to being unable to lie to Tommy, he was unable to say ‘no’ to Thea. He had always wanted a little sister to dote on and give everything to. Thea was a decent enough surrogate for those feelings. 

“If that will get everyone off my back long enough for me to get some sleep, I accept these terms,” Hartley said. When he turned to Thea, however, his expression softened a bit and his tone softened a lot. “Come, Thea. I’m sorry I gave you such a fright.”

Thea looped arms with Hartley and started marching him off toward her room. “It’s okay, Hart,” she said. “I know you didn’t mean to.”

It was oddly comfortable in Thea’s bed. She had a large, expensive bed with fancy sheets and soft plush comforters. It was far nicer than the guest bed and linens. Hartley sank into the pillows and set his glasses on the bedside table. It wouldn’t be difficult at all to share this bed with Thea. Neither of them would take up much room and there were more than enough blankets and pillows on the bed that they didn’t need to share. Hartley closed his eyes and waited while Thea quickly changed into pajamas, brushed her teeth in her private bathroom and then turned off the light before laying down on the other side of the bed from Hartley. 

“Hey, Hart?” she said after a few moments of them laying there silently in the dark.

“Yes, princess?” Hartley whispered back.

“Please don’t joke about killing yourself, okay?” she said. “Not unless you… you need to in order to cope or something.”   


“Oh, Thea…” Hartley said softly. “I apologize. I am not feeling suicidal. I didn’t mean to cause you distress-”

“It’s okay, just… just promise me you’ll tell me or-or Tommy if you feel like that,” she said.

“I promise,” Hartley said. “Good night, Thea.”

“Good night, Hartley,” Thea said back. 

Hartley wondered how Thea would feel if she knew that he’d had to make a similar promise to Tommy one day what may as well have been a lifetime ago. As if his sleep-walking incident wasn’t bad enough, Hartley had to dream about that time.

 

*~* 

 

Tommy wasn’t the best guy. He knew that, his dad knew it, his best friend/lover thought he was the fine the way he was but Hartley, his part-time little brother adored him. Tommy understood that. It was really nice knowing that even though he was kind of a sleaze and a fuck up, one person looked up to him like he was a good guy and that made him feel like maybe he could be. Some day. 

After he had his fun and grew up a little. 

Years later, people would attribute Tommy’s sudden change, his attempt to become more responsible, less womanizing (and whatever the equivalent was when you do the same kind of sleazy stuff to men) to the disappearance of his best friend but that event had only solidified a decision Tommy had already made to be better and more responsible. 

It was a day that came about a month  _ before _ Oliver went on that fateful boat ride with his father and Sara Lance. Tommy had gotten home late, still a bit drunk. He didn’t bother trying to hide it from the security guards and a butler got him up to his room without him stumbling into the wall or breaking anything. All would be reported to his father who wouldn’t give a damn anyway so why should Tommy?

The butler left Tommy at the door to his bedroom and Tommy waited a moment for him to retreat before pushing the door open. He was intent on falling face first onto the couch in his private sitting area but someone was already curled up on one cushion. It took Tommy’s intoxicated brain a few moments to recognize Hartley. The poor kid’s (and Tommy  _ absolutely  _ thought of Hartley as a kid even though he was only 3 years younger) face was all swollen and red like he’d been crying. He was still wearing his over-sized glasses and everything. He’d apparently cried himself out and passed out on Tommy’s couch waiting for him. He didn’t even have a blanket. Tommy hadn’t immediately recognized him because he had  _ never _ seen Hartley cry, let alone the aftermath of what must have been a crying  _ fit _ . 

Tommy went to his closet and grabbed a blanket for Hartley. He draped it over Hartley, hoping he wouldn’t wake but Hartley stirred as soon as the too-soft blanket touched his skin. “Thomas?” he said. His voice sounded rough. 

“Hey Hart,” Tommy said, managing not to slur. “I woulda come home sooner if I’d known you were here. I thought you were off at college right now.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Hartley said. “This was a stupid idea-”

“No, hey,” Tommy said. “You look like you’ve been crying, what’s wrong?”

“I..” Hartley took a deep breath and sat up. He dragged the blanket around his thin frame and pulled his feet up so there was room for Tommy to sit beside him on the couch. “I-it’s my parents, they don’t listen to me at  _ all _ .”

“What’d they do?” Tommy asked, concerned. He’d seen Hartley get  _ mad _ at his parents for not listening to him but never this despair about it.

“They don’t know me at all they…” Hartley swallowed. “I am on break from school right now. Visiting. I went home for dinner and they strongly advised that I attempt to court-” Hartley actually gagged right then but he managed to compose himself. “That I attempt to court  _ Thea Queen _ .”

“Ugh, god,” Tommy said. “That’s really gross but… Hart, maybe if you got a girlfriend, they’d back off about it. Jeez,  _ Thea _ … How could they even  _ think _ that? You’ve known her since she was in diapers.”

“That’s not the problem, Tommy,” Hartley said. “W-well, it would be  _ a  _ problem for me, obviously. I see Thea as something of a younger sister and that has nothing to do with… with the fact that I am not at all interested in women.”

Tommy smiled a little sadly. “Yeah,” he said. “I mean, I’ve known that about you since you were nine but I wasn’t gonna be the first one to say anything.”

“R-really?” Hartley said, surprised. 

It was kind of nice. Tommy rarely got to surprise Hartley. If it weren’t for the circumstances, he might be proud of himself. “Yes, really,” he said. “And you know I’m bi, right? So obviously I don’t think any differently of you because of it.”

“I see,” Hartley said. He sighed softly. “They won’t understand. I-I’m so tired of it all. The hiding… it’s bad enough having to pretend to be straight. I can’t- I will  _ not _ pretend to be interested in Thea Queen. It is a repugnant notion on multiple levels. How do I get my parents to see that?”

“Have you thought of coming out?” Tommy asked. “I mean… I know your parents aren’t the most open-minded-”

“They think it’s a  _ disease.  _ One that people  _ choose to have _ . Telling them is a terrible idea,” Hartley said. 

“Yeah, but… you’re their only heir, Hart,” Tommy said. “It’s not like they can get rid of you. They’re old money. They need their legacy. And they  _ love  _ you. They’ll come around.”

“I don’t know…” Hartley said. “I don’t know if I can stand hiding much longer either. I am so tired…” Hartley leaned further back into the couch cushions and closed his eyes. “I can’t be myself, I can’t be who they want me to be. What’s the point of any of this?”

“What do you mean what’s the point?” Tommy asked.

Hartley tugged the blanket around himself more tightly. “I…” He took a shaky breath. “I d-don’t want to do this anymore,” he said very quietly. “I am sick of b-being me. Knowing what… what pain and… and suffering it is likely to bring but I  _ can’t _ … I can’t hide anymore either. It’s eating me alive. I d-don’t know what to do… I came here because…”

“It’s okay,” Tommy said. He wrapped his arms around Hartley and hugged him even though the thin teenager just sat there, awkward, stiff, shaking. “It’s okay, Hart. I understand. I-I know what you’re getting at.” It hurt. It hurt  _ so tremendously much _ to hear those words out of Hartley but Tommy stayed strong. For once, he was going to do the responsible thing. “It’ll be alright, I promise. No matter what happens, I’ve got you. I’m here for you.”

“I just want it all to stop.”

“I know you do,” Tommy said. “And I know you’re scared. But you’re gonna get through this. I swear.”

“How?” Hartley asked. His voice was very small.

“You just… gotta start being yourself,” Tommy said. He let Hartley go but stayed close to him. “Living like this… this lie you’re putting on… I think that’s what’s hurting you the most. You have to be who you are.”

“But… my parents…” Hartley said weakly.

“They’ll understand,” Tommy said. “But even if they don’t, you’ll be fine, alright? Your college is paid for in advance, you only have a couple years to go before you’re on your own anyway-”

“B-but what if they  _ hate _ me?” Hartley said.

“If they hate their own son for who he is, they don’t deserve you,” Tommy said. “And I’m sorry. I… I know that’s not much consolation but… but if they kick you out, you always have a home here with me, okay?”

Hartley hesitated. He wiped a tear out of the corner of one eye with the back of his hand. “Okay,” he said. 

“And promise to talk to me if you ever wanna hurt yourself,” Tommy said. “ _ Promise _ .”

“I came to you this time, didn’t I?” Hartley asked.

“Promise me anyway,” Tommy said. “If you ever feel like hurting yourself, anywhere you are, any time it is, you promise you’ll talk to me before you do anything.”   


“Very well,” Hartley said. “I promise to talk to you if I ever feel like hurting myself.”

It helped at the time. Hartley was able to go back to sleep and Tommy fell asleep shortly after, content in knowing that Hartley was safe. That he’d actually managed to help.

He’d meant well, at the very least. He couldn’t have predicted that the Rathaways would  _ actually _ kick Hartley out of their family. Despite the thoughtless and cruel things Tommy sometimes did to men and women alike, despite his own father’s indifference to him, Tommy still wanted to think the best in other people. He’d wanted to believe so badly that the Rathaways loved Hartley as much as he, himself loved Hartley. But he’d been wrong and he felt so badly about it.

He deserved the anger he got from Hartley afterward and the break in contact. Had it not been his grief over Oliver, he would have tried again later to get Hartley to come back home.

 


	4. Confessions

Hartley woke before Thea, but stayed in her bed without moving much. He sighed softly, replaying the dream in his head. At least, Hartley never had to break his promise to Tommy because he never again felt the urge to harm himself. Something about the way his own mother had said that he was dead to her had made him want to live if for no other reason than spite.

Thea stirred not long after Hartley woke up. “Hart?” she said. “Are you up?”

“Yes, princess,” Hartley said. He sat up and pushed the blanket off his legs. “I need to shower.”

“Use mine,” Thea said almost like a command. “The guest bathrooms have awful shampoo.”

“I don't have a change of clothes or my bathrobe,” Hartley said.

“I'll go get your robe,” Thea said.

She was out of the bed and in the hallway before Hartley had a chance to protest. He sighed. It wasn't like he couldn't trust Thea not to go through his things. She seemed in too much of a hurry to linger anyway, judging by the sound of her footsteps. Hartley got out of Thea's bed and treked to her shower.

Thea hadn't been kidding about the difference in the quality of shampoo and conditioner. His hair felt healthier, even when it was wet, after he used her things. Her soap smelled very nice, vanilla and cherry blossoms. Thea popped into the bathroom for a moment while Hartley was still behind the curtain and hung up his robe for him. Hartley got out, dried off and dumped his pajamas in the hamper. He almost forgot that there were maids to do the laundry for him.

Hartley emerged from the shower wearing his robe and no longer reeking of chlorine. By now, he could hear Tommy and Oliver beginning to wake in their own rooms and one of the maids moving around in the home theater in the basement. She must have gotten in very early this morning to have had time to pick up breakfast and coffee for everyone. Not to mention setting it all up without being seen by any of them. Hartley felt a twinge of something at that. Almost like guilt. It was very odd. He never used to care when Tommy’s or his parents’ maids or butlers would do things for him. Now he felt almost like he didn’t really deserve it.

He shook his head. That was their job. He shouldn’t feel guilty because a woman did her job.

“I plugged in your phone,” Thea said, breaking Hartley out of his thoughts. “The light on it was blinking. I didn’t check to see if that was the battery or if you had notifications or what.”

“Thank you, Thea,” Hartley said. “I’ll just go retrieve that and get dressed and meet you downstairs.”

“Yeah, I’m coming with you,” Thea said. “I’m not leaving your side for more than a few minutes until we figure out what happened last night.”

 

Hartley let out a drawn out, long-suffering sigh. “Very well,” he said. He headed back for his room. Like last night, Thea waited for him in the hall while he changed. His cellphone battery wasn’t that low. He only ever used it to text Cisco. He was very surprised to see a text from Cisco at 3:22 am.

Around the time he would have been stepping into the pool.

_Cisco: Hey, I know it’s late and you’re probably asleep but I watched Star Trek and the episode with the Tamarians came on._

_Cisco: Darmok on the ocean :”|_

Hartley chuckled. If nothing else, at least Cisco could still always cheer him up with his silly texts. He decided to reply right away so as not to discourage this habit Cisco was developing of texting him random things.

_Hartley: Darmok AND Jalad on the ocean_

Cisco responded while Hartley was getting dressed and Hartley hurried to read it.

_Cisco: I always knew you were a sap._

_Hartley: Don’t tell anyone my secret._

Hartley tucked his phone in his pocket. He’d decided on wearing sweats today. He didn’t have work and as far as he knew, there was no plan to do anything today except sit around with the family.

“What’s taking so long?” Thea demanded. She came around the doorway and stared at Hartley. “Who were you texting? I heard your phone going off.”

“Just a friend from Central City,” Hartley said.

“Anyone special?” Thea asked.

“Well, I can stand him,” Hartley said. He joined Thea in the hall.

“Sounds pretty special,” Thea said. She nudged Hartley with her elbow. “Are you gonna snag him?”

“Sadly, I missed my chance,” Hartley said. “But it is fine. I’m just glad to have him as a friend.”

Thea laughed and looped her arm through Hartley’s as was her custom. “Wow, you changed!”

“I am beginning to see the value in making friends,” Hartley said. “Particularly, it seems important not to alienate the few people I can stand being around.”

“Maybe the next step is lightening up about people a little so you can be popular like me,” Thea said with a cheeky grin.

Hartley simply shrugged and let Thea lead him down to the theater. The Merlyn’s home theater was a large room in the basement. There were a few rows of theater seats toward the back and a massive screen that took up one wall. The middle of the room had several old couches that were once in the main part of the house until they’d been replaced with newer, more modern furniture. There were also blankets, pillows and a fully stocked fridge and pantry full of snacks, microwave popcorn and any kind of soda anyone could possibly want. Hartley loved the theater precisely because his parents had called it “an ostentatious waste of money.” They were terrible hypocrites considering that they had a massive fountain in their grand foyer.

The low table in the area with the couches had been set up with coffees and cronuts with the maid nowhere in sight just as Hartley expected. He and Thea sat and both grabbed the cups of coffee with their names written on them.

“What is the name of the maid who brought in the coffee?” Hartley asked. “I have seen some of the staff but I do not recognize anyone.”

“Um, yeah, everyone was let go after Malcolm went to prison,” Thea said. “Lets see… Samantha, I think?”

Hartley sniffed his coffee. It smelled like an dark roast with no sugar and almond milk. Just how he liked it. “Why was the old staff fired? And how does Samantha know my coffee order?”

“Oliver didn't trust the people Malcolm had working for him,” Thea said. “And, frankly, I agree with him. We couldn't be sure any of them weren't still working for Malcolm.”

“Didn't they put Malcolm in a maximum security metahuman prison?” Hartley asked.

Thea shrugged. “Yeah, but he's a charismatic psychopath,” she said. “We can't be too careful.”

“Sociopath,” Hartley corrected her.

“Who's a sociopath?” Tommy asked. He and Oliver were finally joining them at the couches. Tommy picked up his coffee and sat down next to Hartley so Hartley was sandwiched between him and Thea.

“Your father,” Hartley replied.

“The court psychologist said he was uhh… something else… Malign Narcissa?” Tommy said.

“I think you mean ‘Malignant Narcissist,’ Thomas,” Hartley said.

“Are you sure?” Tommy asked. “That doesn’t sound right but I don’t really care what the doctors diagnosed him with.”

Oliver sat down but didn't grab his coffee. “Why are we talking about Malcolm?” he asked.

“Hartley wanted to know what happened to the old staff,” Thea said.

“Oh yeah, right,” Tommy said. “I gave them severance and stuff. I didn't want anyone who might report to my dad if he ever gets out of prison. Which is really unlikely but still…”

“Unlikely but not impossible,” Oliver said. “But never mind that. We have more pressing matters to discuss.”

Everyone looked at Hartley.

Hartley finished taking a sip of his coffee. Let them stare until they might begin to feel awkward. Then, at the last second before anyone else tried to speak to break the silence, that was when Hartley spoke. “I don't know what you expect me to say,” he said. He set down his coffee. “I told you everything last night.”

“We're worried about you,” Oliver said. “I think you need to see a doctor about this.”

Hartley pulled a sour face. “That's a little drastic, don't you think?” he said.

“Who knows how much water you inhaled?” Oliver said. “You could very easily get pneumonia or a bad sinus infection-”

“Both of which are easily survivable with soup and rest,” Hartley interrupted. “Besides, I feel fine.”

“Okay, but you're not fine, Hart,” Thea said. “You tried to drown yourself.”

“Not intentionally,” Hartley said. “I am fairly certain that I was sleepwalking.”

“Then you need to see a neurologist-”

“Absolutely not,” Hartley said before Oliver could finish. “I do not need to see a doctor. It was one episode.”

“You could have died,” Tommy said.

“But I didn't,” Hartley said. “So let it be.”

Tommy, Oliver and Thea all exchanged looks and seemingly decided to let it go. At the very least, none of them said anything further on the matter.

Thea picked up the remote and turned on the big screen. Saturday morning cartoons were already queued up. Not the ones airing this Saturday morning, however. The cartoons were from their childhoods. It was very easy to get sucked into the atmosphere, it was almost like being a kid again except they were drinking coffee instead of juice.

Their fun was short-lived, however. Hartley had been so engrossed in watching cartoons and enjoying Tommy, Oliver and Thea's company that he hadn't been listening. When the doorbell rang out through the house, Hartley gave a start and stood.

“It's okay,” Tommy said. “I'll go see who it is.”

Hartley knew already who it was. He could hear Detective Lance in the foyer speaking with Samantha the maid. He followed after Tommy and a moment later, Thea and Oliver followed them as well.

It took a few minutes to get up the stairs and they passed Samantha who hurriedly explained that Detective Lance was here to ask them a few questions but she’d asked him to wait on the porch. Tommy thanked her and the four of them left Samantha in the hall.

Tommy took the lead in opening the front door. “Good morning, Quentin,” Tommy greeted him cheerfully. Thea and Oliver remained silent and tense along with Hartley, the three of them standing behind Tommy.

“That’s Detective Lance to you. And maybe for you, it’s a good mornin’,” Lance said. He looked haggard and grumpy. Older than the last time Hartley had seen him. Which, to be fair, had been many years before. “This isn't a social visit, I’m here to ask some questions.”

“Well, we're not busy right now,” Tommy said.

“Ask away,” Thea added.

“I really just wanna talk to Tommy and Hartley,” Lance said. “Maybe we’d be better off doing this down at the station.”

“What is this about?” Hartley asked, impatient and bored sounding even though he was fairly nervous. “Are Thomas and myself in danger of arrest?”

“Not unless you broke the law,” Lance said. “I don't know if you did or not. I do know that I need to talk to you because you're connected to two bodies.”

Hartley squinted at Lance and leaned forward slightly. “Excuse me?” he said. “I certainly do not know anything about two corpses. I assume you mean corpses, yes?”

“Yeah,” Lance said. “So if you're definitely not involved, there's no reason you can't come talk to me and help me figure out what did happen.”

Hartley sighed.

“We'll come down to the station in an hour with our attorney,” Tommy said. “Goodbye, Detective Lance.” He closed the door in Detective Lance’s face.

Once again, everyone was looking at Hartley. “I didn't murder anyone,” he said.

“Well, I believe you,” Tommy said, right away. “I wonder why Lance thinks you did.”

“He didn't say who the corpses were,” Hartley said. “But they were apparently people I knew?”

“He wanted to talk to both of us,” Tommy pointed out. “So, I dunno.”

“Maybe they worked for Palmer Tech?” Thea suggested. “I mean, it's not like you two have a lot of friends in common or anything.”

“Whatever it is,” Oliver said. “I'm sure it has nothing to do with either of you in reality. Lance is just… he has it in for me. I bet this is his way of getting back at me.”

“This is so not about you,” Thea sneered.

“Well, let's not waste anymore time,” Hartley said. “We should get dressed in more professional clothing. Thomas, I assume you have a good attorney?”

“The best in Starling,” Tommy said, smiling.

*~*

It was difficult to convince Thea and Oliver to stay home but somehow, Tommy managed. Hartley didn’t want to overhear the conversation. He thought it would be draining. So he dressed quickly and waited outside by the driveway and listened to music while Tommy did all the convincing. He listened to Enya and thought about Cisco’s hair and how it framed his face a lifetime ago in Hartley’s bedroom. Cisco sweaty and looming over him. It was more pleasant than letting his brain spiral towards his fears. For a few moments, he blocked out the nagging worry about Snart or Wells coming after him for retribution. It even kept his mind off of the Music Meister. For a while.

He kept his headphones in even when he got into the car with Tommy. Tommy didn’t even bother to try to get his attention. Hartley loved that quality about Tommy. He knew when to leave him alone. Tommy’s neighborhood was a 20 minute drive from the police station so he had plenty of time to daydream about how Cisco’s lips felt on his wrist. He didn’t let himself get excited, though. These daydreams were confined to his brain at least for the daytime.

Hartley was expecting some famous, cold and intimidating attorney from a big name firm to meet them at the police station, so he was somewhat startled to see Laurel Lance waiting for them in a conference room.

He managed his surprise with grace. “Dinah,” he said after Laurel dismissed the uniformed officer who had escorted them here. “How lovely to see you again. It's been quite some time, hasn't it?”

Laurel smiled. “Yes, it has,” she said. “I think it's been almost eight years. I'm glad you're back in Starling, even if my dad immediately dragged you into the station…”

“Yeah, what is this about?” Tommy asked. He pulled out a chair for Laurel before he and Hartley sat down on the other side of the table. “Who died?”

“Two men. Lyle Marcson and Andrew Gaits,” Laurel said. “They were both found washed up under the docks this morning around 6am.”

Hartley was brought up short briefly. Dead men in the water reminded him of his incident from the night before and his blood ran cold. He swallowed his fear and remembered the sound of Cisco’s precious resonant frequency. It pierced him through and strengthened him. “I do not recognize the first name but Gaits was my employee very briefly,” Hartley said hastily as soon as he could get his mouth and throat to work.

“Well, just tell my dad the truth,” Laurel said. “I know you weren't out at the docks in the middle of the night drowning people so there's nothing to fear from my dad.”

“I am not afraid of Quentin,” Hartley said. The fear was managed but he was still unsettled.

“Yeah, he's not scary,” Tommy said. He sat down on one side of the table. Laurel and Hartley sat on either side of him. It was only a few moments before Detective Lance walked into the room.

Lance's gaze sought out his daughter first and Laurel's expression never wavered from cool, detached professionalism. “Laurel,” he greeted her.

“Detective,” Laurel replied.

Lance cleared his throat and dropped a manilla folder on the table. He set his coffee mug beside it and then sat down opposite the trio.

His heart sounded a little weak to Hartley. That made Hartley feel more in control of the situation. He’d never exploit that weakness, that muffled sound of blood seeping through a weak valve. Medical professionals called it a ‘murmur’ but to Hartley, it sounded more like a whisper of sand. It was a beautiful sound. A weakness he didn’t need to exploit but having knowledge of it made him feel powerful.

“I'll just cut right to the chase,” Lance said. “Two bodies wash up under the same dock. ME says they drowned at virtually the same time. Is that a weird coincidence, you think?”

“I would use the word ‘tragedy' myself,” Hartley said. He didn't want to think about coincidences right now.

“All appearances suggest they didn't struggle at all,” Lance said. He kept staring at Hartley.

“So… are you thinking suicide or perhaps intoxicating substance involvement?” Hartley asked. “I don't see what any of this has to do with myself or Thomas.”

“Well double drowning suicide is pretty off the wall,” Lance said. “Gotta be a connection. The odds of two unconnected men going to the same docks to commit suicide the same way on the same night… well, my math geeks assure me it's not at all likely.”

Hartley nods. “That is correct,” he said. “The odds are vanishingly small. Are you now going to tell me that the only connection between these two men is Thomas and myself?”

“That's right,” Lance said, smiling in a way that was like a grimace. “You're a smart man, Mr. Rathaway. I heard a rumor your parents had an incident at their building in Central City-”

“My clients are not under arrest and are under no obligation to answer any questions at all,” Laurel said. “So lets stay on topic or we're leaving.”

Lance sighed. “Fine, fine,” he said. “Mr. Rathaway, Merlyn. You're aware an employee of yours is one of the victims? An Andrew Gaits.”

“Former employee,” Hartley corrected Lance. “I terminated his employment at 11 yesterday morning. He was escorted out by security and I have not seen nor spoken to him since.”

“Why did you fire him?” Lance asked.

Hartley sighed. “He made my female employees nervous,” he said. “I am a firm believer in cultivating a safe working environment and I have never known a woman's intuition to be wrong.”

Lance nodded. “You thought he might be a creep,” he said.

“I tend to err on the side of better safe than sorry,” Hartley said. “Naturally, I would feel terrible if somehow my termination of his employment contributed to his later suicide.”

“Would you, now?” Lance said. “What about Lyle Marcson? You think that man's death is a tragedy?”

“I would assume so?” Hartley said, frowning. “I am not familiar with that person.”

“What about you, Tommy? You're being real quiet,” Lance said.

“What?” Tommy said. He sat up a little straighter and looked at Detective Lance. “I didn't know either of these people. I guess I was technically Andrew Gaits’ boss but I have so many employees…” Tommy trailed off. “I definitely don't know that other guy.”

“Yes, I am confused about this ‘Marcson ‘person,” Hartley said. “I do not recall that name.”

“Yeah, maybe you types of guys don't always do names,” Lance said.

“Completely unprofessional,” Laurel interjected.

Lance opened the file and pulled out a picture of a bloated corpse who was, unmistakably the man who had attempted to steal Tommy's wallet. Hartley recognized him immediately. Tommy only recoiled in disgust.

Hartley had no visible reaction but he was so happy suddenly. To see justice done so quickly. He didn’t allow the emotion to show on his face. He simply raised his eyebrows slightly and leaned away from the photo and didn’t look at it again so Lance wouldn’t suspect that he was glad the man was dead. “Ah,” Hartley said. “Yes. Him. Well, I didn't know his name.”

“Ew, who is that?” Tommy asked. “Is that another one of your employees??”

“No,” Hartley said. “It’s the man from Verdant.”

Lance watched Tommy’s face for the full fifteen seconds it took for the implication of Hartley’s statement to dawn on him. Hartley heard it in the quickening of his breath and heartbeat.

“There you go,” Lance said. “I was retracing Marcson’s steps from where he drowned and found out he’d been to your favorite club two nights ago, Tommy. And a witness said you two were real friendly.”

“Yeah,” Tommy said. “He was friendly at first. Then he tried to mug me in the bathroom-”

“Tommy,” Laurel said. “I would advise you not to continue.”

“It's fine, Ms. Lance,” Hartley said. “Neither of us broke any laws. This… Marcson was attempting to do more than simply steal Thomas's wallet. I confronted him and he ran off like the coward he plainly is. So to answer your question, Detective? His death doesn't seem like much of a tragedy to me.”

“Hartley,” Laurel said in a warning tone.

“But it's not illegal to despise a sexual predator,” Hartley said.

“Nah, it’s not,” Lance said. “I am curious why Mr. Merlyn never reported this attempted sexual assault.”

“Well, I was drunk-” Tommy began.

“Tommy, quiet,” Laurel interrupted him and touched his shoulder lightly.

Hartley cleared his throat to draw Lance’s attention back on himself. “What time did these men meet at the docks to drown themselves? I have video proof that I was on the opposite side of town at the Merlyn Estate all night.”

“Yeah, me too,” Tommy said.

But Lance wasn't looking at Tommy. He was staring Hartley down. “I'd like to see that,” he said in a way that plainly implied he didn't believe it. “Because I've got video of someone who looks a lot like you ‘coincidentally’ hanging out by the docks around the same time.”

Hartley knew that it was impossible that the person could be him. He didn’t even flinch although he did find it interesting. “I'll show you mine if you show me yours,” Hartley said with malice.

Lance didn't take his gaze off of Hartley as he produced a still from a security camera. The person in the image was difficult to make out due to the poor quality but certainly resembled Hartley a bit. Hartley stared at it for a few moments and then shook his head. “That's not me,” he said. “That person is shorter than me by at least an inch. Have your ‘math geeks' verify that if you like. You don't need to see my alibi.”

“Let me guess,” Lance said. “At the time of death, 3:22 this morning, you were fast asleep in bed and there's no real proof but your word.”

Hartley and Tommy exchanged looks.

“I was swimming,” Hartley said. “In the pool at the Merlyn Estate.”

“Swimming,” Lance repeated.

“Yes,” Hartley said coldly, grateful that Lance was completely focused on him. Tommy's poker face was terrible and Hartley could hear the panic in his heartbeat and breathing.

“Well you must understand I'm gonna need proof of that,” Lance said, sneering. “Swimming at half past three in the mornin’ is a strange thing to be doing.”

“You'll have to accompany us back to the Merlyn estate and view the video footage yourself so you can be certain that it is unaltered,” Hartley said.

“Hartley, you don't have to show the detective anything. He doesn't have a warrant,” Laurel said.

“I am aware, Ms. Lance but thank you,” Hartley said. “I have nothing to hide and I would hate for SCPD to waste time and resources on a dead end.”

“How economically conscious of you, Rathaway,” Lance said. He stood up. “Alright. Let's go see the tape.”

*~*

Lance didn't seem too convinced but he couldn't deny the footage of Hartley walking out the back door of the mansion three minutes before the time of death on his two victims was hard to argue with.

That was the easiest part of all this. Getting Lance off his back. Hartley's head had been spinning with all of the possible explanations. One thing was certain, there were too many bizarre coincidences to ignore.

As soon as Lance left, Oliver and Thea herded Tommy and Hartley back down to the home theater. The cartoons resumed and everyone sat back in their original places. The atmosphere was even more tense than before, despite the cartoon violence playing in the background.

“You gotta admit, that was weird,” Tommy said, being the first to break the very uncomfortable silence.

“I do admit it,” Hartley said. “It was very weird.”

“Just the fact two guys drowned themselves at practically the same time you almost…” Tommy cleared his throat.

“Is that what Lance was here about?” Oliver asked, sitting up straighter suddenly. Not that he hadn't already been sitting uncomfortably straight.

“Two people drowned last night?” Thea asked. “Right when you where... in the pool?”

“Perhaps it was a coincidence,” Hartley suggested. It sounded like a desperate lie even to his own ears. Hartley cleared his throat to try and play it off like it was just his voice cracking.

“Okay but…” Tommy said. “The one guy was someone you fired for being a creep, right? And the other was the guy who took my wallet at Verdant.”

“There was a creep working for you?” Oliver demanded. He had his chest puffed out like he was getting ready to fight the creep himself.

“Settle down, Oliver,” Hartley said. “He made the women in my office nervous. I don't want that kind of environment where I work.”

“Now he and the man who groped Tommy are dead,” Thea summarized. “I'd call that a win.”

“The death penalty for being a creepy pervert is a little harsh, don't you think?” Tommy interjected.

Thea shrugged. “Maybe they did something worse to someone else,” she said.

“But why would that person wanna hurt Hartley?” Tommy asked. “And how does someone get people to sleepwalk into a body of water?”

“...my music fills your body and head. Now step into the water and inhale until you're dead!”

The song went through Hartley's mind like a needle and thread.

He could absolutely hear the waterfront from inside Tommy's house. It wasn't something he paid much attention to. It was normally just waves and boat noises. A lot of droning white noise that would give Hartley a headache to focus on. Three in the morning, being one of the quieter hours of the day was the perfect time for Hartley’s advanced hearing to pick up the sound of a single individual singing. Especially if there was something special about the voice.

“Drugs?” Thea suggested. “We've seen drugs make people do crazy things in this city before.”

“I don't think it was drugs,” Oliver said. “I think Hartley knows something he isn't saying.”

“What?” Hartley said. He was still lost in thought about this ‘Music Meister.’ He was trying to remember how her voice had sounded but all he could come up with was ‘beautiful.’

“You have that look on your face that means you're formulating a theory,” Oliver said. “So let us in on it. You can bounce your ideas off of us.”

“I do not think it was drugs,” Hartley said, stalling for time. He still wasn't sure how much he could trust them. These people he trusted more than most. Still, he hesitated to tell them everything. “I suppose… it could have been a form of auditory hypnosis.”

“Hypnosis?” Tommy repeated incredulously. “Like Vegas parlor tricks?”

“Except that this type of hypnosis is seemingly effective,” Hartley said.

“You were singing last night,” Thea said. She chewed on her bottom lip briefly. “The Music Meister will take all my sorrows away,” she recited but didn't sing.

“Yes,” Hartley said. “I recall.”

“Do you think it’s possible for someone to be hypnotized by a song?” Oliver asked. He crossed his arms, standing somehow taller than before. “Is that where this is going?”

Hartley paused for a long moment. He’d known this was inevitable from the moment he’d heard about the two drowning victims and the mysterious person on the docks. There was no way for him to avoid telling his friends (his family) about his secret now. “I think we are dealing with a metahuman with the ability to manipulate a person’s actions with her voice,” Hartley began.

“A metahuman?” Tommy asked. “Like The Flash?”

“The Flash?” Thea interrupted, brows raised. “The Flash is a real person?”

“Yeah, he’s real,” Tommy said.

“Do you know The Flash, Thomas?” Hartley asked, turning to look at Tommy in surprise.

“I- w- no, I don’t know The Flash,” Tommy said. “I mean, okay, I saw him once but just for a second. I don’t know who he is.”

“Oh? Has The Flash been to Starling?” Hartley asked. “I thought he stayed in Central City.”

“Forget about The Flash,” Oliver interjected. “I want to know about this Music Meister. Why would she be after _you_ , Hartley?”

Hartley sighed. He was far more interested in talking about what The Flash might have been doing in Central City but it seemed that this issue could no longer be avoided. “I don’t think she was after me,” he said.

“Well, me and Ollie didn’t get outta bed and try to jump in the pool at 3 am, unlike _you_.” Tommy pointed out.

“Exactly,” Oliver agreed. “So if she wasn’t targeting you, why were you the only one in the house affected?”

“That would be because you could not hear her,” Hartley said. “I do believe she was the person in the still from the security footage we saw at the CCPD. Which would mean she was at the waterfront.”

“Yeah, but… that’s miles away,” Tommy said.

“You shouldn’t have been able to hear her,” Oliver added.

“Yes,” Hartley said. “I believe I was nearly collateral damage. Nothing more. An accident.”

“You don’t have to say it like that,” Thea said and gave Hartley a gentle swat on the arm.

“Wait, are you saying you could _hear_ her?” Oliver asked, ignoring his sister’s comment. “All these miles away…?”

“Yes,” Hartley said. “That is exactly what I am saying.” He sighed again. “I suppose… there is no point in putting up the pretense any longer” He took a deep breath. He was getting very tired of being _afraid_. It was happening so often lately even when logically, Hartley knew he was in control of the situation. It wasn’t like him to doubt himself this much. He looked at each of his closest companion’s faces, took another deep breath and came out for the second time in his life. “I am a metahuman.”

Thea, Oliver and Tommy all turned and stared at Hartley with near identical expressions of shock. It could have been funny.

But Hartley could find no humor in the situation, while his heartbeat was pounding in his ears and that fear was back. It looked like no one was going to say anything, so Hartley continued. It was a relief he didn't expect, being honest for a change.

“The night the particle accelerator exploded, I was outside S.T.A.R. Labs,” he said. “I had warned Wells that…It doesn’t matter. Anyway, I was there, protesting. The accelerator came on, it failed as I predicted and I was hit with a wave of dark matter which knocked me unconscious.”

“Oh, Hartley…” Thea said. She stepped closer to Hartley and Hartley let her touch his shoulder gently in concern.

“When I woke up, my head was killing me, my ears were throbbing. I _thought_ I had gone deaf but, in truth, I was hearing everything.” Once he got started, he couldn’t seem to stop. He hadn’t spoken to anyone about this since it had happened and he didn’t realize how badly he’d needed to tell someone. Anyone. But especially these three. “I could hear people shouting, of course, the sounds of the rain and the thunder and lightning, sirens… all the obvious things. But I could also hear everyone’s heart beats. Their breathing. I could hear the scratching of countless rodents in the alleyways and in the many warehouses and basements. I could hear all the cars, their engines, the people inside them. Water and sewage rushing through the pipes beneath the pavement. I could hear every insect. Every radio, every television. Even the radio waves.” Hartley stopped talking suddenly.

“That’s so much,” Thea said. “That’s too much.” She was the only one who seemed to have enough composure to speak. Tommy and Oliver had moved closer to Hartley and were exchanging worried looks but remained silent. “Do you still hear everything?”

“Right now? No,” Hartley said. He gave Thea’s hand a pat. It hadn’t moved from where Thea had rested it on his shoulder. “Between my specialized hearing aids and a great deal of focus, I can block things out if I do not want to hear. For the most part.”

“You can hear the whole city??” Oliver exclaimed suddenly, finally able to speak.

“If I wish to,” Hartley said. “That much sensory input at once is meaningless, however. It would just sound like a cacophony. I have to focus to pick out specific sounds.” It wasn’t everything he could do, but no one needed to know everything.

“That’s amazing, Hartley!” Tommy burst out, beaming with pride. “I always knew you were special and this is proof!”

Hartley was taken aback. He’d expected fear, confusion, potentially even hatred but Tommy was looking at him the same way as always. Like he couldn’t be more proud. “I..”

“It is amazing,” Oliver agreed. He was smiling. It was rare for Oliver to smile these days. For a moment, he almost looked like the carefree young boy Hartley had first met and Hartley felt odd. He knew it should make him happy. Relieved at least but instead he felt almost panicked.

Hartley scoffed. It was the most neutral reaction he could muster at the moment. “Well, it was hardly anything good at first. With every sound in Central City attacking my brain,” he said. “I had to invent specialized hearing aids to filter out some of the noise. Otherwise, it’s just like piercing screaming in my ears at all times.”

Oliver’s and Tommy’s smiles both faded. Tommy reached over and laid a hand on the shoulder that wasn’t occupied by Thea’s hand. His grip wasn’t as firm as her’s. “You had to go through that all by yourself?” he asked softly, echoing Thea’s sentiment.

Hartley was taken aback again. He should have known that these three would support him but he hadn’t anticipated how it would make him feel. His heart was racing again and he couldn’t hear anything except for its frantic beat. He shrugged off Thea’s and Tommy’s hands and they both withdrew but stayed standing by his side. “It’s fine,” he said. “I’ve gotten very good at controlling it.”

“That’s good,” Oliver said. “Given what you said about your ability, I’m impressed that you’re able to focus on anything at all.”

“The hearing aids are a lot of help,” Hartley said.

"Wait a minute, wait," Tommy said. "Go back to Music Meister. So this woman has super singing and you have super ears?"

Hartley gave Tommy a curious look. "Yes?"

"Isn't that weird, though?" Tommy said. "Like really, really weird? And she kinda looks like you? And she attacked people you thought were creeps?"

Hartley shrugged.

"What if she's, like, your evil twin?!" Tommy exclaimed.

Hartley shook his head. "Well, no, that seems incredibly far-fetched."

"Right now, I'm more concerned about you learning to manage your powers better, Oliver interjected.

"Oh boy," said Tommy.

Oliver exchanged a look with Tommy. An expression Hartley couldn’t understand. Something secret passed between them. “You still need training,” Oliver said after a few moments.

Of all the surprises that had come Hartley’s way that day, Oliver suggesting training was the most unexpected. “Training?” Hartley repeated, leaning forward and staring at Oliver in confusion.

“Yes,” Oliver said. “You can’t expect to keep using tech as a crutch indefinitely.”

“Ollie…” Tommy said in a warning tone and with another look full of hidden meaning.

“It’s not a crutch, Oliver Jonas,” Hartley snapped. “It’s an assistive device. I am as much gifted as I am disabled by this new alteration to my genetic code.”

“You would be best off if you can learn to control your abilities without hearing aids,” Oliver continued as if Hartley hadn’t said anything. He didn’t blink at Hartley’s use of his middle name. “Through meditation, you should be able to achieve that and more.”

“Oh, leave him be, Ollie!” Thea said. “He’s not a soldier.”

Hartley was staring at Oliver like he was a stranger, now. Hartley almost blurted out a question he had been intentionally avoiding. _What had happened to Oliver on that island?_ He was so different now. The old Oliver would never have suggested meditation.

Then again, the _old_ Hartley never would have joined forces with a pair of alcoholic thieves. They had all changed.

Oliver, Thea and Tommy had accepted Hartley as a metahuman, he had to accept Oliver for who he was now. His heart rate finally slowed. He didn’t have to understand why he was unsettled by his family’s acceptance. He could put that away for now and try to be gracious.

Hartley softened his expression deliberately. “Would you be willing to train me?” he asked Oliver. “I must confess, I never considered meditation as an option.”

Oliver blinked in surprise but then smiled at Hartley. “I’d be happy to,” he said. “It’ll help, I promise.”


	5. Dos-à-dos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hartley and his found family spend some time looking into the Music Meister. Cisco walks a mile in Hartley's shoes.

Thea and Tommy seemed oddly unhappy about the idea of Oliver training Hartley but Hartley spent two hours with Oliver trying to learn to meditate. It was frustrating and irritating but Oliver assured Hartley that was normal for beginners. By the time Oliver let him quit trying, Hartley was cranky and hungry so her went out with Tommy for a very late lunch.

They went to Big Belly Burger even though Tommy offered to take Hartley somewhere fancy and expensive. Tommy was oddly tense and quiet in the car and it wasn’t until they were both at their table with their meals that Hartley found out why.

“Alright,” Hartley said. “What is bothering you, Thomas?”

“Huh?” Tommy said, distracted. “Oh.” He laughed. “Yeah, I guess I’m being kinda moody, sorry. 

It’s just… uh, Ollie.”

Hartley sighed and started toying with his straw. The light squeaking distracted him from the sound of someone slurping their drink (truly _disgusting_ to Hartley’s ears). “I really do think that meditation may be of some use to me,” he said. How wonderful it would be if he could not hear the sounds of everyone around them chewing. Or the cook in the back singing just off key enough to be like nails on a chalkboard...

“It’s not that, exactly,” Tommy said. “It’s just… that’s stuff he picked up on the island…”

“I assumed as much,” Hartley said. He waved a fry dismissively. “I fail to see how it could be bad for him. Meditation has multiple therapeutic applications.”

“I mean, yeah, that’s true,” Tommy said. “But he’s, you know… he’s _different_ now.”

“Yes, I had noticed,” Hartley said. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“He’s _paranoid_ ,” Tommy continued. “Sometimes, he sees threats that aren’t real.”

Hartley sat up straighter. “He has delusions?” he asks.

“Something like that,” Tommy said. “It’s more like he’s traumatized from what happened and now he’s scared all the time.”

“He really _should_ be in therapy at the very least,” Hartley said. “I know I mentioned it before…”

“Yeah, well, he’s not interested and I can’t force him,” Tommy said. He leaned back in his chair, making the wood creak. It hurt Hartley’s ears. “Let’s just finish our lunch and go home.”

“I would like to go to Verdant, actually,” Hartley said. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

“It’s not open yet,” Tommy said. “We can go out dancing tonight if you want, though! Not like either of us has work tomorrow.”

“I wasn’t looking to dance,” Hartley said. “I wanted to look over the security camera footage for the other night.”

Tommy frowned. “Is this about the Music Meister thing?” he asked. He sighed. “Look, maybe you should leave that up to Detective Lance. He’s already on the case. I’m sure he’s trying to track down the woman in the photograph.”

“Yes, but he doesn’t _know_ about the metahuman angle,” Hartley pointed out. “Are the people in Starling even **aware** of Metahumans?”

“I think most people don’t really believe they’re a real thing,” Tommy said. His expression turned sad, suddenly. “Oh, Hart. That must suck for you.”

“It doesn’t, really, I assure you,” Hartley said. “It’s not as if I want people knowing I am one. If people disbelieve the existence of Metahumans, it protects my privacy. However, it also means that there is no one out there prepared to deal with the threat of a metahuman who would use their ability to hurt people.”

“Aside from The Flash, you mean... but look at the people she hurt,” Tommy said. “It’s like Thea said, they’re no real loss.”

“I am inclined to agree,” Hartley said. “But who is to say the Music Meister will not use her abilities to hurt _innocent_ people as well? It seems to be a form of _mind control_ , Thomas. I don’t think there is anyone alive who can be trusted with such a power.”  
Tommy’s eyes widened. “Oh shoot, I hadn’t thought of it like that. You’re right, she already _did_ hurt an innocent person.” 

“What do you mean?” Hartley asked. “ _Me_?”

“Uh, of _course_ I mean _you_ , doofus,” Tommy said. He looked down at his food and sighed. “Okay, we can go look at the security footage but I bet Ollie has already been through it.”

“Oh?” Hartley said. He took a sip of his drink, eyeing Tommy. He’d never considered himself as an _innocent_ bystander of Music Meister’s attack. It had him slightly off kilter. “Wouldn’t he have told us if he’d found anything?”

“I don’t know,” Tommy said. “He doesn’t always tell me stuff…” Tommy sighed again. He’d barely touched his food and he was looking at it with distaste. 

“Have _you_ tried talking to _him_?” Hartley asked. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “About the two of you, I mean.”

Tommy shook his head. “I don’t think he wants things to go back to the way they were,” he said.

“Has he said as much?” Hartley asked.

“Well, no, but… he hasn’t shown any interest,” Tommy said. He shrugged.

Hartley hummed thoughtfully. “Well, in any case, perhaps you should ask him to join us,” he said. “If he’s looked over the footage already, he can save us time.”

“Yeah,” Tommy said. He nodded firmly. “Let’s get back to the house and pick him up.”

**

Hartley expected Oliver to object but it was surprisingly easy to get him to come along with them to Verdant. He made no mention of having previously seen the footage but Hartley suspected Tommy had been right about that. Roy was at the bar setting things up and getting ready for the Saturday crowd since Thea had a class. Roy gave Oliver the keys to the back office and Hartley declined his offer to help. He was certain he could manage to get their old system to show him whatever he wanted. It only took him a few moments at the keyboard to pull up the footage and he, Oliver and Tommy took seats at the three different monitors, each watching a different section of the club looking for a person who resembled Hartley but wasn’t him.

They worked silently for the first hour before they had to take a break for coffee and to give their eyes a rest. “I haven’t found anything,” Tommy said.

“Neither have I,” Hartley said.

Oliver shook his head. “No sign of anyone matching the description,” he said. “I’m afraid the Verdant angle is dead end. Our Music Meister must not have found the victim here.”

“It was a long shot,” Hartley acknowledges. 

“I had some friends look into the victims,” Oliver said. “They had no known associates in common, aside from you two.”

“We barely knew either,” Hartley said. He blew on his coffee and took a sip. 

“Yes,” Oliver said. “And that makes it very strange. You’re connected to them, you were affected by the Music Meister and you’re _sure_ you don’t remember anything else that might be helpful?”

Hartley scowled at Oliver. “If I knew anything, I would have told you,” he said.

“You’re not exactly an open book,” Oliver pointed out. “I wouldn’t blame you if you’ve held something back, but you know you can tell us anything, right?”

Hartley shook his head, scowling deeper. “I haven’t held anything back,” he said. “Although _you_ are one to talk about being withholding.”

“Whoa, whoa, let’s not fight!” Tommy said, trying to step between Oliver and Hartley. 

Oliver ignored Tommy. “Do you have something to say, Hartley?” he asked.

Hartley paused, mainly for dramatic effect. “Not really,” he said. “Although I have a sneaking suspicion that _you_ have something you need to say to _Tommy_.”

The irritation was startled out of Oliver and he looked at Hartley in confusion. “What?”

“Hart,” Tommy said in a rare, stern tone. “Leave it be.”

“What is he talking about, Tommy?” Oliver asked. “Wha- Did I _do_ something?”

“You haven’t done _anything_ , Oliver, just let it drop,” Tommy said. “Come on, let’s just go back home for the night.

“A good idea,” Hartley said still staring Oliver down. “It’s clear we will learn nothing of value here.”

Oliver let out a huff of annoyance but didn’t rise to Hartley’s bait. “You two go on ahead. I’ll get a ride home later from John,” he said.

Tommy gave Oliver a hard stare. “Stay safe, alright?” he said and his expression softened again   
all at once.

Oliver’s own grumpy face softened as if in response to Tommy’s. “I’ll be home tonight,” he said. “I promise.”

Tommy nodded and gave Oliver a lingering pat on the arm. “Alright, see you tonight,” he said and then he turned to leave.

Hartley followed with haste. He knew he shouldn’t have tried goading Oliver like that but he hated how miserable Tommy was over that moron. “I apologize, Thomas,” he said once he buckled in to the front seat of Tommy’s SUV. “It wasn’t my place to say anything.”

“Yeah,” Tommy said. He started the car and pulled out of the parking lot of Verdant. “And you saw how oblivious he is about it. He had no idea what you were talking about. He’s obviously moved on.”

“That is not what it looked like to me,” Hartley said. “But have it your way.” 

Tommy turned on the radio. An alternative rock station. The music was a nice break from the strained silence and the sounds of traffic.

Just when Hartley thought he was going to have to say _something_ to break the tension his cell phone buzzed in his pocket. It was very fortunate timing. Hartley wasn’t sure what he was going to say but he knew it would have only made matters worse. He took his phone out of his pocket to read the text.

**Cisco** : Please help me come up with a good excuse for me *not* to go to Dante’s birthday party next week.

Hartley smirked. 

**Hartley** : Tell them all you have a date you can’t cancel with a very fussy but *very* attractive person.

Cisco’s response was quicker than Hartley expected. **Cisco** : Oh, are you offering to play the part of my date?

“Are you texting Cisco?” Tommy asked, annoyance in his voice. 

Hartley looked up. “How could you tell?” he asked.

“You’re smiling at your phone,” Tommy said. “Like an idiot. C’mon. You’ve butt into my love life enough. What’s going on with that?”

“He’s just a friend,” Hartley said. “As I’ve told you.”

“That’s not what it looked like to me…” Tommy said.

Hartley just shook his head and stared at Cisco’s message. It _could_ be construed as flirting. Hartley could say something flirty back to test the waters. He gave it some thought.

**Hartley** : Are you calling me *very* attractive?

**Cisco** : Don’t even play, you know the answer to that. I’m not feeding your giant ego.  
Hartley’s smirk grew into a real smile.

**Hartley** : If I were in town, I would go with you to the party as your date just to see the looks on your family’s faces.

The two minutes it took Cisco to reply were agonizingly quiet. It should have been easy enough for Hartley to find something interesting to listen to. The woes of the feuding couple in a nearby car, or a radio playing the same station as Tommy’s. But all Hartley could listen to was the sound of electricity gently buzzing in his phone. 

**Cisco** : Hmm.. another good reason for you to come back to Central City.

Hartley sighed and put his phone away. That was almost certainly flirting but it was just too complicated to think about right at that moment. He focused on the road until they returned to the Merlyn estate. Hartley told Tommy he was going to turn in early. He showered and changed into pajamas, crawling into his bed before he texted Cisco back.

**Hartley** : I’ll have to take a raincheck for now. Perhaps we can make a splash at the next Ramon gathering.

Cisco’s response was very quick again. **Cisco** : You better believe I’m holding you to that!

Despite the way his day had gone, Hartley managed to fall asleep with a smile on his face. He dreamed of Cisco’s hands and the sound of his hair and heart beat and he woke up with a deep ache in his chest that didn’t fade all day nor the next. It was somewhat distracting.

Fortunately for him, Hartley’s job wasn’t difficult. His team practically managed themselves. According to the old stats on his team, they were working more efficiently now under his management than before. He suspected that Andrew Gaits’ termination had something to do with it.

Hartley winced at the thought. The man was dead and he couldn’t even begin to search for his murderer. It would be best if he could put it out of his mind. He spent his lunch break trying to meditate but he couldn’t remember what Oliver had told him about breathing and focusing and it just left him feeling frustrated and bored. 

The rest of his week was equally uneventful. He went to meetings, approved projects, double-checked his employee’s work even fiddled around with a few circuit boards himself. He fielded questions about Andrew Gaits’ apparent suicide by suggesting that anyone was welcome to go home early or speak to the on-staff psychologist if they were having any difficult feelings about it.

No one elected to do either.

Hartley rounded out the week with a presentation to the board of directors about approving funding for a very promising project two of his engineers, Magda and Eli had going; prosthetic limbs that had impressively realistic tactile feedback. The decision wouldn’t come down until Monday at the earliest but Hartley liked his odds.

He expected to hear from Cisco at some point about how Dante’s birthday party had gone but his phone didn’t buzz all day or night Friday even though Hartley kept checking on it. Even though Cisco had texted at least once a day until now to exchange ever-more offensive or ludicrous ideas for what to give Dante for his birthday. Hartley was still fond of the idea a stack of job applications.

He was checking his phone so often that Thea pointed it out at dinner. He’d gone out to the Glades just to have dinner with Thea before her club opened for the night. It had been difficult to spend time with her between both of their busy schedules.

“He’s _not_ gonna call you, Hart,” she said over her burger. Big Belly Burger twice in one week was excessive but Hartley didn’t care. Thea wanted it and so that was where they went.  
“Who?” Hartley asked.

Thea rolled her eyes and set her burger back down in its little red basket. Hartley liked the sound of the wax paper crinkling. It reminded him of Cisco and his endless snack wrappers (better snacking than _smoking_ ).

“Whatever guy has you acting all love sick,” she said. She waved a fry at him. “Don’t even pretend.”

“I am _not_ love sick,” Hartley said, firmly. 

“Gimme your phone, then,” Thea said. She held her hand out and Hartley twitched, nearly handing it over just on sheer impulse.

“Some things are _sacred_ , Thea,” Hartley admonished her. 

“Look,” Thea said. She let her hand fall to the table. “You and Tommy have been walking around with the same, sad, kicked puppy look, it’s disgusting. You look even _more_ alike than usual.”

“We do _not_ ,” Hartley said. “I look _nothing_ like Thomas.”

Thea shook her head. “Come on,” she said. “It’s _me_ , you can tell me about whoever isn’t calling or texting you right now.”

Hartley sighed and tucked his phone back into his pocket. “You don’t know him,” he said. “It’s a friend. I am worried about him because he does not get along with his _family_ and he had to visit them this afternoon.” Hartley sneered around the word ‘family.’

“Have you tried texting him and telling him you’re worried?” Thea asked.

Hartley gaped at Thea. He hadn’t considered that. And now that he had, the idea was mortifying. “I couldn’t possibly,” he said. “He would tease me if I did.”

“Well, at least you’d know he was okay?” she said. “Plus, isn’t teasing sorta… flirting?”

“It _can_ be,” Hartley said. “You don’t understand. The situation is… _complicated_.”

“What’s complicated?” Thea asked. “You _clearly_ like him.”

Hartley frowned and looked down at the table. “He’s quite attractive,” he admitted quietly. Because that was all it was. That was _all_.

“Yeah, and you’re worried about him because he has issues with his family…” Thea said like she was explaining something obvious. “And you can’t stop looking at your phone and thinking about him. Probably all day, every day and I bet you dream about him at night-”

“I-! That is preposterous. I do not _like_ , Cisco,” Hartley insisted. He was alarmed, almost _angry_. “I have never _liked_ anyone.”

“Oh? His name is ‘Cisco’?” Thea asked, scooting her chair closer to the table and leaning against it. “Come on, Hartley.”

There was ringing in his ears and his heart was pounding. He could hear his ribcage vibrating from the impact of the beats. He _cannot_ like Cisco Ramon. Flirting, hooking up, those were fine. But _feelings_?? Fondness? Oh, yes, there was fondness. What else could he call it?  
He really _can’t_ stop thinking about Cisco. When had it started? What can he _do_?

“Hart?” Thea said. The concern in her voice broke through the ringing and pounding and vibrating. “Look, I’m sorry, if it’s a sore subject… you don’t have to talk about it. It’s okay.”

Hartley shook his head and let out a laugh without intending to. There was no reason to panic.   
He could find his way around this. He was _Hartley Rathaway._ He graduated at the top of his class. He escaped from being a member of Leonard Snart’s crew with his _life_ (so far). He could find his way around any problem. “I am such an oblivious fool,” he said, gently, trying to convey to Thea that he wasn’t about to explode. 

“What?” Thea asked. “Are you okay? Do you wanna get out of here?”

“No,” Hartley said. “No, I’m alright, Thea. Finish your meal. Let’s simply talk about something else?”

“Sure,” she said. Thea leaned back in her chair, looking relieved. She resumed eating.

“So, you’ve noticed the tension between Thomas and Oliver?” he asked.

“Oh my god!” Thea exclaimed. She waved a fry again. “It’s so awkward and… it’s a little _gross_ , right?”

“Terribly awkward and yes, a bit disgusting,” Hartley agreed. Despite that, it was a relief to talk about this instead of Cisco-

Anything but Cisco.

“I mean, I know it’s really only gross to _us_ but… It’s been going on for _so long_ , Hartley,” Thea said. She took a bite of her burger and washed it down with her drink. “It’s driving me crazy. I’ve tried getting them to talk to each other but it’s like talking to brick walls.”

“I have tried talking to Thomas,” Hartley said. “He’s convinced that Oliver has ‘moved on’.” He rolled his eyes. He felt like he’d been holding back from rolling them for ages. It was nice to finally let it happen.

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Thea said, wrinkling her nose. “I’m sure you’ve noticed how much Ollie’s changed.”

“Yes, it’s quite… _glaring_ ,” Hartley said delicately. He started fiddling with the remaining french fries in his basket. Maneuvering them so that they were lined up with the checkered pattern of the wax paper.

“Yeah, but he’s the most like his old self when he’s with Tommy,” Thea said. “And, believe me, this is weird as hell for me but I think Ollie would feel better if he and Tommy just… blugh, I don’t even wanna say it.”

“Indeed,” Hartley said. “I quite agree with you but I have lost my appetite.” He pushed his chair away from the table.

“Same here,” Thea said. She stood and shooed Hartley’s hands away when he tried to get the tray for her. “I can take care of my own trash.”

Hartley held his hands up placatingly. “I believe you, princess,” he said and smiled. He gathered only his own trash and took it to the bin. “Would you like me to walk you to the club?” he asked Thea on their way out of the restaurant.

“It’s one block, Hart, I can manage,” Thea said. 

“This neighborhood…” Hartley said quietly and looked around. He half expected a robber or even _Leonard Snart_ to jump out at them from the shady alleyway. The thought of it made him want to cloak them both in silence but he refrained. He couldn’t be sure Thea wouldn’t notice it happening.

“I’ll be totally fine,” Thea said. “I have a taser in my purse and I don’t even _really_ need it.”

“You are a terrifying woman, Thea Queen,” Hartley said, impressed and very proud.

“You know it!” Thea exclaimed and turned with a wave to head to Verdant.

**

Hartley tried to distract himself all morning Saturday. He watched cartoons in the theater with Tommy and Oliver until he couldn’t stand the weight of things going unsaid any longer and took a walk through the grounds. He stopped by the pool and stared at the clear water. It would be warm enough to swim, soon but Hartley had a feeling he’d never stick so much as a toe in that pool ever again. He sighed and stared at the water. He tried to meditate again. Why was it so difficult? If an idiot like Oliver Queen could manage to quiet his mind, why couldn’t Hartley?

The problem was, every time his mind approached something like quiet, it was suddenly filled with thoughts of Cisco. If Thea hadn’t clued him in to his own _**feelings**_ (he was still kicking himself for that) he might have thought he was going insane. He’d been beginning to think so anyway.

If he wasn’t thinking about Cisco, he was thinking about the Music Meister. He used to love taking baths. At least once a week. But he hadn’t managed to take a bath since the incident. He couldn’t stand the idea of having his head submerged in water.

Maybe he needed therapy. Maybe a therapist would be able to explain to him how he could **not** know he had feelings for someone.

Hartley took out his phone and texted Cisco.

**Hartley** : So tell me, did you get him the pamphlets for the Community College? Or the self help book?

He hadn’t really expected Cisco to text back right away but he stared at his phone for several minutes anyway just in case. Then he put his phone away and went back inside to look for another distraction. 

Hartley ended up wandering into Malcolm’s wing of the mansion. Thea, Oliver and Tommy never came down here but the maids were maintaining things. The library was nice and quiet. Sound proofed. Perhaps Hartley could find solace there. Sound proofing wasn’t _perfect_ but it was as close to relief as Hartley could get from the constant bombardment of sounds without programming his hearing aids to render him totally deaf. It didn’t help get his mind out of the cycle of worrying about Cisco, checking his phone. Worrying about Music Meister. Fantasizing about Cisco and then mentally admonishing himself and worrying about him instead.

He fell asleep in one of the uncomfortable, leather chairs. He wasn’t even asleep long enough to dream before his phone woke him up, vibrating out of his hand and skittering across the floor a few inches. It was unnaturally loud to Hartley’s ears due to the lack of much background noise to muffle it. He winced and grabbed it off the floor before it stopped buzzing. Cisco was _calling_ him? It confused him enough that he almost didn’t pick up until just before the call would have gone to voicemail.

“Cisco?” Hartley said. “I’m sorry, I was napping, I just woke up.”

“Shit,” Cisco said. Even over the phone, Hartley could hear Cisco’s heart was beating too fast. His voice was scratchy from illness or crying. Crying based on the pitch of his voice and the viscosity of his mucus considering the amount of muffling. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have called-”

“Don’t hang up!” Hartley said quickly. He swallowed a sudden spike of fury and forced calm. He remembered, somehow, how to breathe the way Oliver had taught him. “What’s the matter? Was your family _that_ bad?” he asked more quietly and much more gently.

“I-it wasn’t them, Hart, shit,” Cisco said. “I want a smoke so bad right now, I can’t eat candy or I’ll spew.”

“Did something happen?” Hartley asked. His own heart was racing now.

“Y-yeah,” Cisco said. “S-something happened. I don’t even know if I should be talking about it over the phone.”

“It should be fine, Cisco,” Hartley said, it was taking all of his focus and energy to keep his voice calm and even. “Breathe. Take your time.” He sat back down in the leather chair. There was no denying his feelings now. His heart was _screaming_ at the sounds Cisco was making. He wanted to go back to Central City right now. It would almost be worth it to have to hide from   
Leonard Snart just so he could hold Cisco and make him feel better.

He was _disgusting_.

“I was kidnapped,” Cisco said suddenly after a lot of quiet and quick, wet breathing. “God, that’s stupid. I mean… Come on. I got kidnapped. Who gets kidnapped? What am I? Princess friggen _Peach_?”

“You- what?” Hartley asked, dumbfounded. He wasn’t sure he’d heard Cisco right. He was not accustomed to thinking he’d misheard something. “You were kidnapped? By whom? Did you go to the police?”

Cisco laughed hollowly. “And tell them I made a dangerous weapon for a maniac? And then the maniac tells EVERYONE who The Flash is?? Oh, _god_ , Hart. _I told him who **The Flash** is_.”

“You told who?” Hartley asked, gripping his phone so hard the case squeaked in his ear. “Who did you tell?” He was so shocked, he was having difficulty processing any of what Cisco was saying in a way that made sense.

“Captain Cold. Leonard Snart.”

Hartley’s mouth went dry and he almost dropped his phone. It all made sense suddenly. It was   
so clear.

_Too_ clear.

It was **blinding** ; it hurt so much.

“Are you there, Hart?” Cisco asked after a few moments of horrible, ringing silence.

“Y-yes, I am here,” Hartley said. “That’s terrible, Cisco.” He was feeling suddenly very small and inadequate. He had no idea how to respond to this situation. He wanted to do _something_ to help but there was _nothing_.

“I-I know, I feel awful, but he was torturing Dante. I had to tell-”

“No, no, you misunderstand,” Hartley said softly, cutting Cisco off. He couldn’t destroy the thing that was making Cisco cry right this instant. All he could do for Cisco right now was _talk_ and he, of course, didn’t know what the right thing to say was at _all_. “It’s not terrible that you revealed The Flash’s identity. You had no choice. That person would have killed you.” He couldn’t even bring himself to say Snart’s name to Cisco. He didn’t **dare**.

Cisco laughed again. It was the worst sound Hartley had ever heard. So muddy and lacking in any warmth or happiness. None of the cute little squeaks Cisco let out when he was laughing for too long at something that wasn’t that funny. “Yeah, probably,” he said. “I-I built him a _Cold Gun_ , Hartley… I made him a dangerous we-weapon he can use against-”

“You did what you had to do,” Hartley managed to say. He didn’t know _how_ he managed it given the way his heart clenched at the realization that Cisco had been forced to _take his place_. “I’m glad you’re not dead,” Hartley said. It was pathetic.He was never good at dealing with people who were upset or hurt. That person being _Cisco_ made matters far more difficult.

It was his fault and the world was burning.

But he had to stay strong.

Just for a moment.

For _Cisco_.

Cisco sniffed. “Yeah,” he said. “Dante’s gonna lose a hand.” Cisco must have turned the phone away from his face because the sounds of his sobs were muffled. It was worse than the hollow laughter by an infinite measure. Hartley wanted to scream. 

“Oh, Cisco, I’m so sorry,” Hartley said. “Are you at the hospital with him?”

“I was,” he said. He let out a choked little sob. “I’m walking back to… S.T.A.R. Labs right now.”

“You’re _outside_ walking?” Hartley said, dumbfounded.

“I can’t get there walking _inside_ ,” Cisco snapped. “S-sorry,” he said. “It’s okay. There’s no one around and if anyone even _looks_ at me, I’ll call The Flash. I should’ve called him. _Fuck_. He must be going out of his mind.”

“I assume that is why you are walking to S.T.A.R. Labs?” Hartley asked. “To speak to him?”

“Yeah,” Cisco said. “My folks got to the hospital and screamed at me until I left.” He let out a little whine. “I’m almost there. The Flash is gonna _hate_ me.”

“He won’t, Cisco,” Hartley said. “He chooses to use his extraordinary power to help people who are in trouble. I am certain he will understand.”

“I-I dunno,” Cisco said. He sniffled. “I gotta go tell him. I’ll ask Cait to let me spend the night. S-sorry to call you all…”

Hartley bit his bottom lip so hard it bled. “Please don’t apologize, Cisco,” Hartley said. “Just text me before you go to bed, alright?”

“Thanks, Hartley,” Cisco said. “I forgot you could be so nice sometimes.” He sniffled again. 

“Okay, I’m at the lab. I gotta go. Bye.”

“Good bye, Cisco,” Hartley said. He hung up the phone, set it carefully on the desk and then picked up a heavy book and hurled across the room with an animalistic shout.


	6. Holding Pattern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hartley makes an important decision about the fate of Leonard Snart.

Hartley was coming unhinged. Immediately after he threw that book across the room, he got a text message from Cisco.

**Cisco** : i bought him a really beautiful metronome

There was nothing else for it: Hartley had to kill Leonard Snart.

He didn’t give it much thought. Enough to throw some cash, his cloak and gauntlets into his shoulder bag in preparation and then he was stealing Tommy’s motorcycle. He would have it locked up at the train station and call Tommy once he was on his way to Central City. From there, it would be a simple matter of sneaking through the industrial district to Snart’s hideout and blasting him to pieces with soundwaves.

He could hear Snart’s frequency clear as anything inside his mind. He practiced screaming the frequency on the drive to the train station. The motorcycle was loud enough to drown him out and Tommy’s helmet on his head hid his face from view. He was so _angry_. How dare Snart? How _dare_ he go after Cisco? Hartley would make him pay. He would _hurt_ , he would be _afraid_. Hartley would kill Mick first, just to make Snart suffer before he died. It wouldn’t even be that difficult. Mick had a heart murmur just like Detective Lance. Hartley could stop his heart from a distance with a pulse of a very specific frequency. It would be fast and it would come from nowhere.

Hartley was so distracted by his rage and planning that he didn’t notice he was being followed. It wasn’t until he pulled into the parking lot and had to stop screaming that he heard the very distinct sound of Oliver Queen’s heartbeat.

“Shit,” he cursed and kicked out the kickstand on the bike. How was he supposed to explain this? How did Oliver just _happen_ to end up where he was?? 

Hartley didn’t even try to run for it. He just leaned against the bike and waited for Oliver to get out of the SUV he’d apparently followed him here in. To Hartley’s surprise, Oliver was joined by a large man who was almost gorgeous enough to distract Hartley from his rage. 

“Hartley,” Oliver said, stopping in front of Hartley. “Going somewhere?”

Hartley paused to take Tommy's helmet off his head and held it under his right arm. The look he gave Oliver was murderous. “Not that it’s any of _your_ business, but yes,” Hartley said snippishly. 

“You look like a man who’s about to make a bad decision,” the man with Oliver said. He stood beside Oliver, arms crossed. He towered over Hartley.

Hartley sized him up with a look and smirked. “That may be so,” he said. “What’s it to you, hm? Are you looking to make a bad decision, too?”

“Hartley, this is my _associate_ , John Diggle,” Oliver said in a terse voice. Hartley knew that tone. John was off limits, apparently. “You stole Tommy’s motorcycle.”

“I was borrowing it,” Hartley said. “I have to return to Central City.”

“This have anything to do with a man named Leonard Snart?” John asked.

Hartley scowled at him to disguise his shock. It was a shame to make such a terrible first impression on such an attractive man but it couldn't be helped. Hartley was simply too angry.

“I’ll take the bike back, Oliver,” John said without missing a beat. “You go ahead and give Hartley a ride home.” John very _gently_ took the keys from Hartley’s hand. Hartley didn’t even think of resisting. John had his own helmet prepared. It was almost like they knew exactly what was going to happen. It only further enraged Hartley.

“I don’t need the motorcycle,” Hartley said. He started to turn toward the train station but Oliver grabbed his elbow with a shockingly firm grip. 

Hartley hadn’t realized how _strong_ Oliver had gotten. He still saw him as the soft, stupid goofy teenage Oliver and Hartley was only then realizing how wrong that image was

“Get your hand off me!” Hartley snapped. He was honestly a little frightened but moreso just angry at everything.

“Let’s not do this here, Hartley,” Oliver said. He was infuriatingly calm. Hartley wanted to strike him. “Don’t,” Oliver said, like he could tell Hartley wanted to hit him. “Just give me five minutes. Get in the car and talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to discuss,” Hartley hissed.

Oliver glanced around. It was such a casual movement that Hartley was momentarily distracted. Wondering what Oliver was looking for. And in that moment, Oliver simply scooped Hartley up and tossed him, helmet and all, into the back of the SUV. The child locks thwarted Hartley long enough for Oliver to get in the front seat and pull out of the parking lot. He’d made a mistake by not thinking of Oliver as a potential threat.

“Are you completely out of your mind!?” Hartley shrieked, intentionally shrill enough to _really_ hurt Oliver’s ears.

“You should put your seatbelt on,” Oliver said.

“You have _no right_ to snatch me off the street and toss me into a vehicle like I weigh nothing. How _dare_ you?!” Hartley shouted. “What _happened_ to you?” Hartley punched the back of Oliver’s seat. “You were _fat_ and _happy_ when I moved to Central City!”

“Can you please stop shrieking? And don’t hit my seat, it’s dangerous,” Oliver said with the exact tone of a parent speaking to an unreasonable toddler. Which Hartley was fully well aware he was emulating in his behavior. “Sit in the seat properly and buckle in.”

Hartley huffed but he did what Oliver told him. There was no reason to risk his life just to be petty. Not yet anyway. “I _have_ to go home,” he said.

“We _are_ going home,” Oliver said, calm as ever. “Back to Tommy’s.”

“I have to go back home to _Central City_ ,” Hartley said. “You don’t _understand_.”

“I _do_ understand, Hart,” Oliver said. “That’s how I knew where to go to find you.” He glanced at Hartley in the rearview mirror. “If someone did to Tommy what Snart did to Cisco, I’d want to hunt them down like a dog.”

“You didn’t kill Lyle Marcson,” Hartley grumbled.

“...I’m going to ignore that given the circumstances,” Oliver said. Good. Hartley was starting to get under his skin.

“How do you even _know_ already?” Hartley demanded. “Cisco just called me and told me about it less than an hour ago.”

“And probably just a few minutes later, a friend of mine called and told me about it,” Oliver said. 

“You mean _Barry_?” Hartley asked and he met Oliver’s gaze in the rearview mirror for a beat before Oliver had to look at the road again.

“Caitlin Snow,” Oliver said. It was an _obvious_ lie. At least to Hartley. He could hear Oliver’s voice waver slightly when he said it. “I know how you feel about Cisco, we all do.”

Hartley crossed his arms and hunkered down in his seat. He didn't say anything for a few minutes solid. It was a very tense silence. “Is your little crush on Barry Allen the reason you’ve been giving Thomas the cold shoulder?”

Oliver swerved a little. “What.”

“You heard me,” Hartley said.

“First of all, I do _not_ have a crush on **Barry** ,” Oliver said a little more loudly than before. 

Hartley huffed. “Did I forget to mention? I can _hear_ when people lie to me now.”

Oliver sighed and pulled the car over. “John was right, we should have just sent Tommy to get you,” he said. He put the car in park and turned in his seat to stare Hartley down. It was actually intimidating. Hartley never in his wildest dreams thought he would find Oliver intimidating. He couldn’t do anything but look back expectantly. For a moment, Hartley thought Oliver was going to use his _considerable_ strength against him. “The topic you’re alluding to with Tommy is off limits.”

“Take me back to the train station,” Hartley snapped, not less than _half_ out of fear. “If you’re not going to listen to _me_ , I am not going to listen to you, either.”

“You’re acting like a child,” Oliver said.

“And _you_ are _hurting_ Tommy!” Hartley snapped.

Oliver flinched and turned back around in his seat. “Just. Shut up until we get home.”

“ _Fuck_ you, Oliver,” Hartley snapped.

Oliver took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. It sounded like the wind to Hartley. “I love you, too, Hartley,” Oliver lamented and he pulled back into traffic.

As soon as they got back to Tommy’s (and Hartley suffered the indignity of having to wait for Oliver to open the door for him because of the child locks) Hartley stormed up to his room and slammed the door. It was getting late. Hartley had completely forgotten that he’d asked Cisco to text him before he went to sleep. He hadn’t noticed his phone buzz in his pocket because of his fight with Oliver in the car. It had only been 20 minutes since he’d received the text but Hartley still felt a horrible sinking feeling in his chest about the delay in getting back to Cisco.

**Cisco** : I’m gonna sleep with Caitlin

: I mean, in her bed with her. Just sleeping.

**Cisco** : Sorry. I’m not thinking straight right now. I’ll text you tomorrow.

It took Hartley a further few minutes to calm down enough to think of a reply.

**Hartley** : I’m glad you are safe and with a trusted friend.

He thought about apologizing for the delay but Cisco texted him back right away and Hartley was frozen with the onslaught of emotion it caused.

**Cisco** : I’d feel safer if you were here, too.

Once he could breathe and move again, Hartley sighed and held his phone against his chest for a moment. Once again, he wanted to flee from Tommy’s house and head back to Central City but he knew better than to try again so soon. Oliver might do some other unexpected, terrifying thing if he did.

**Hartley** : If I could be, I would. Good night, Cisco.

He turned his phone _off_ because he just couldn’t stand it anymore. Cisco texting him. Cisco _not_ texting him. Both were horrible in different ways.

Moments later, Hartley heard Tommy’s heartbeat and foot steps from across the house. He waited patiently at his bedroom door until just before Tommy would have knocked and _then_ Hartley opened the door. “Come in,” he said. 

Tommy crossed the threshold and looked around the room. “You haven’t decorated much yet, huh?” he pointed out, gesturing at the bare walls and desk with nothing but his laptop and flute resting atop it. 

Hartley shrugged. “I haven’t had much time and didn’t see much point,” he said miserably. 

“Why?” Tommy asked. He turned to face Hartley, brow furrowed. “Are you really gonna leave? Move back to Central City after only a few weeks?”

It wasn’t fair. Tommy looked so _sad_. “I was… I don’t know that I intended to stay there long term,” Hartley said.

“Yeah? But you're not sure you're gonna stay here long term either. Is that right?” Tommy asked. He walked over to Hartley’s bed and sat down. “What happened today?”

“What? Oliver didn’t tell you?” Hartley asked. He walked over to Tommy and sat down next to him. 

“No,” Tommy said. “He said you were running off to Central City to do something stupid and he stopped you. He wouldn’t tell me anything more but he was pretty pissed off when he got home. So… good job.”

Hartley sighed. “I am sorry,” he said. “I was in quite a state and I did not appreciate Oliver's intervention. Cisco was… _hurt_ by someone and I lost my head a bit.”

“Hurt?” Tommy asked. He sat up straighter. “Is he okay?”

“Physically, yes,” Hartley said. “I am more concerned with… potential trauma.” Hartley’s brow drew in and his chest ached like the worst kind of heartburn.

“So…” Tommy said. “I take it you weren’t going there to comfort him? Because if Oliver stopped you from doing _that_ …”

“No,” Hartley said. “I was going to murder the man who harmed him.”

Tommy jumped a little and looked at Hartley in alarm. “What? What did this guy _do_?”

“He kidnapped Cisco and tortured Dante in front of him, as far as I could gather,” Hartley said. “Cisco was distressed and only marginally coherent when he called.”

“Well… _shit_ ,” Tommy said. “No _wonder_ you wanted to kill the guy.”

“Yes,” Hartley said with a nod. He trembled a little. “It was _my_ fault-” he blurted out. “It was all my fault. I n-never should have worked for Leonard Snart.”

 

Tommy snorted. “Sorry, it’s not funny, but… that _name_.” Tommy shook his head. “Slow down, Hart. Who is Leonard Snart?”

“The man who kidnapped Cisco,” Hartley said.

Tommy nodded. “Okay, and… you worked for him?” Tommy raised his eyebrows at Hartley.

“Yes,” Hartley said.

“Was he a kidnapper back then??” Tommy asked.

Hartley let out a strangled, agonized voice. “You’re going to _hate_ me,” he exclaimed.

“No I’m not,” Tommy said. “I’m sure you had a reason for working for that guy. Like, he sounds pretty terrifying, right? Did you have a choice?”

“I don’t know,” Hartley said. “If I did, I chose wrongly without any threats from Snart.” Hartley sighed. He could hear his tear ducts working. A horrible _schlorping_ sound and his throat felt like it was tight and on fire. 

“Okay,” Tommy said. “So… when you worked for him, what’d you do?”

“I built him a cold gun,” Hartley said. “A liquid nitrogen gun for breaking into safes and armored cars.” 

“That’s… not great, Hartley,” Tommy said. “That is _really_ not great.”

“I know!” Hartley shouted. 

“I still love you!” Tommy was quick to say. “Just… jeez, alright. Did you kill anyone?”

“ _No!_ ” Hartley said firmly but not loudly. He was struggling to keep his emotions in check. He didn’t want to say something horrible to Tommy. “But Snart kidnapped Cisco to do my job for him. He made Cisco build him a gun. He made Cisco tell him-” Hartley put a hand to his mouth. He couldn’t believe he’d almost blurted that out.

“Tell him what?” Tommy asked. He laid a hand on Hartley’s shoulder. “It’ll be alright, but I can only help if I know what’s going on.”

Hartley lowered his hand. “Please don’t ask me this,” he begged Tommy.

“It’ll be okay, Hart, just tell me what it is,” Tommy said. “I’ll find a way to help, I promise.”

“H-he made Cisco tell him who the Flash is,” Hartley said. “I-it is my fault. U-utterly. Had _I_ told Snart…”

“Wait,” Tommy said. He held his hands up briefly and then rested one on Hartley’s shoulder again. “Wait, wait, wait. You know who The Flash is?”

Hartley nodded, looking at Tommy fearfully.

“Who is The Flash?” he asked.

“Barry Allen,” Hartley said instantly. 

Tommy gave a start. “Wh-! I didn’t expect you to actually _tell_ me!” he exclaimed.

“Then you should not have asked,” Hartley said. 

“Barry Allen?!” Tommy exclaimed. He stood up. He had a look on his face that Hartley didn’t recognize.

Because it was _anger_ , Hartley realized.

“That son of a _bitch_!” Tommy shouted.

“Thomas?” Hartley said, confused and alarmed. Tommy and Oliver _both_ acting scary was a bit much on top of everything else.

Tommy balled his fists at his sides, paced in a circle and then sat back down next to Hartley. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Oliver…. He said he was _helping_ Barry learn to exercise so he could get fit after being in a coma. He didn’t tell me he was _training **The Flash**!!_” Tommy sighed. “Oh shit, I’m sorry, Hart. I shouldn’t have… you’re already having a rough day.”

“It’s quite alright,” Hartley said. If nothing else, it had distracted him from his self loathing for a few moments.

“It’s not, really,” Tommy said. He sighed again and patted Hartley on the back. “Okay, so you fucked up and worked for an asshole. That doesn’t make you responsible for his future actions no matter _what_ your job was.”

“I feel terrible, Thomas,” Hartley said. “I haven’t felt his bad in a very long time. All I want to do is go to Central City and kill that bastard so he can’t hurt Cisco ever again.”

“And then what?” Tommy asked. “You kill a man and… what? You and Cisco live happily ever after?”

Hartley groaned and buried his face in his hands briefly and then looked up, uttering a silent curse at the gods. “There is… not even the remotest chance that I could _ever_ be with Cisco now,” he said. “What incredible timing. I only _just_ realized how much I care for him and now all hope of ever holding him again is lost.”

“I think you’re getting ahead of yourself,” Tommy said. “Maybe you should try talking to Cisco. Admit what you did wrong. Apologize and beg for forgiveness.”

“He will _hate_ me,” Hartley said.

“I kinda doubt that, Hart,” Tommy said. “What happened to him isn’t your fault. And doing something bad in the past doesn’t mean you can’t be a good guy going forward, right?”

Hartley shrugged. “I suppose so,” he said.

“Nah, you know it’s right,” Tommy said. He gave Hartley a soft, playful swat on the shoulder. “You just need to grow up a little.”

Hartley huffed. “I am not a child.”

“Yeah?” Tommy said. He shook his head. “Then you need to be a man and take responsibility for your actions.”

Hartley nodded and looked down at his knees.

“If you still wanna kill Snart in the morning, or, you know, do the _smart_ thing and go comfort your friend, let me know,” Tommy said. “I’ll drive you.”

Hartley looked up at Tommy in astonishment. “I beg your pardon?”

“Promise me that you’ll let me be the one to drive you to Central City,” he said. “Because if you still wanna kill Snart after a six hour drive with me telling you all the reasons you shouldn’t, well… then I guess the guy has to die, huh?” Tommy stood up and waited.

Hartley didn’t say anything for a moment. He was too stunned to process this. “What? Oh, yes, I promise,” he said.

“Swear on your flute,” Tommy said.

Hartley’s gaze flickered to the flute case on his desk. “Yes, I swear on my flute,” he said.

Tommy nodded. He turned and picked up the flute case and carried it off. “You can have it back in the morning,” he said.

“V-very well,” Hartley said. He cleared his throat. “Please shut the door on your way out.”

“Night Hart,” Tommy said and he left the room, carrying Hartley’s flute with evident care.

Hartley felt strangely like he had just been _grounded_ for the first time in his life.

 

Come morning, Hartley wasn’t feeling nearly as murderous. It helped that when he woke up and finally turned his phone on he had text messages waiting from Cisco. Hartley read them while still laying in bed, his chest aching and heart racing.

**Cisco** : Sorry about last night. 

**Cisco** : In my defense, it was the worst.

Hartley smiled sadly and tipped the phone against his chin, thinking of how best to reply when his phone buzzed again.

**Cisco** : I’m back at work. Still waiting for everyone else to get in. 

**Hartley** : You hadn’t thought to take a day off?

**Cisco** : I’d be too paranoid alone all day. I feel safer with Cait and the others.

**Hartley** : Well, don’t overwork yourself.

**Cisco** : I’ll try not to.

Hartley sighed and set his phone on the table beside his bed. He heaved himself up and flattened his hair with his fingers before donning his glasses and getting up. As nice as it was to hear from Cisco, Hartley realized he had a hard day ahead of him. First and foremost, both Tommy and Oliver were owed apologies. Hartley frowned, listening to the sounds in the house. He heard Thea’s heartbeat and her steady rhythmic breathing. She was still asleep. He could hear Tommy’s heart and his voice, muffled through the floor and across the house. He was having breakfast.

Oliver’s heartbeat was not in Hartley’s immediate range. It made him nervous in a way he hadn’t expected. It was barely 7 am and Oliver was already out of the house?

Hartley tuned his hearing aids to focus on different distances. Out of the house, a two block radius. Countless heartbeats but none of them Oliver’s.

Hartley hastily changed into black jeans and a dark blue turtleneck sweatshirt before hurrying down to the kitchen to find Tommy. 

“Morning, Hartley,” Tommy greeted him as soon as Hartley sat down at the table with him. “So, are we going on a road trip today?”

“No,” Hartley said. “I’ve changed my mind, I will not be visiting Central City any time soon.”

Tommy nodded. “I don’t know if I’m relieved or not,” he said. “But I’m glad you’re not about to go off and murder anybody.”

“Never mind that,” Hartley said. “Where is Oliver?”

Tommy frowned. “What do you mean? Isn’t he in bed?” he asked.

“No. He is not in the house at all,” Hartley said.

Tommy leaned toward Hartley, brows drawn in concern. “Are you alright, Hart?” he asked. “You look pale.”

“I had wanted to… apologize to Oliver,” Hartley said. “I wasn’t expecting him to leave so early.”

Tommy sighed and rolled his eyes. “I bet he left last night after we all went to sleep and he’s just not back yet,” he said. “Don’t worry about it, I’m sure he’s fine.”

Hartley wasn’t so sure but he couldn’t do anything about it. He took a muffin out of the basket in the middle of the table and started taking small pieces off it to nibble on. “I’m sorry, Tommy,” he said.

“Whoa,” Tommy said. He set his coffee down and looked at Hartley more closely. “You haven’t called me ‘Tommy’ since you were a teenager.”

Hartley shrugged. “Perhaps that is a fair reflection of how lost I feel,” he admitted softly. “At any rate, I am sorry for attempting to meddle in your love life and for behaving like a spoiled child since you welcomed me back here.”

“You haven’t been _that_ bad,” Tommy said. “And it’s alright. I’m not even mad about that stuff you said to Oliver at Verdant. It’s gotta be… frustrating for you.”

“It bothers me to see you hurt,” Hartley said. “And you know I have very little practice processing empathy.”

Tommy nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “I get it. You’re trying to help it’s just…” Tommy sighed. “There’s nothing you can do about it.”

Hartley nodded.

“Speaking of, did you figure out what you’re going to do about Cisco?” Tommy asked.

“The same thing I have been doing,” Hartley said. “Respond when he texts me. Try to be a supportive friend.”

Tommy nodded and took a sip of his coffee. “You really think you totally blew it, huh?” he asked. “That’s rough. I’ve never seen you _like_ anybody before.”

Hartley sighed. “I’ve never felt this way before,” he said. “It’s terrible. All I want to do is lay in bed and listen to sad love songs. I feel _sick_.”

“I can relate,” Tommy said with humorless laughter in his voice. “You know what we should do? We should go out dancing tonight.”

“I have work in the morning,” Hartley said. “When Oliver gets home, will you tell him I would like to speak with him?”

“Yeah, of course,” Tommy said. “What? Are you gonna go lay in bed and listen to sad love songs?”

Hartley shrugged one shoulder. “It’s my day off,” he said. “I suppose that means I can do whatever I please.”


	7. Growing Pains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hartley learns to cope with the fact that he is, in fact, kind of a bad person. He and Oliver find common ground. Tommy is a lot smarter than anyone gives him credit for, including himself. Cisco vexes Hartley in more ways then one.

Even though he knew it was a stupid cliche, Hartley _did_ spend the better part of his day laying around in bed listening to sad music. It wasn't like he had much else to do. Cisco hadn't texted again and Hartley half hoped he wouldn't text again for a long time. The other half was wishing Cisco were here comforting him. He felt sick. It used to be pleasant to think of Cisco. Now it just ached in his chest and his stomach. And still he couldn't stop thinking about the sound Cisco's hair made when it brushed over his shoulders. Or the sound of his voice speaking spanish. 

“ _Si soy una mascota, ¿por qué eres tú la que está en jaula?_ ”

Oliver didn’t return home until that evening. Hartley heard his heartbeat even over the sound of his music.

“ _...each broken heart will eventually mend_ …”

Hartley turned the volume down and heard Tommy greeting Oliver. “Hey, Ollie,” he was saying. “Hart wanted to talk to you.”

Oliver sighed. “Is he in his room?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Tommy said. “Where _were_ you, anyway? Did you leave last night?”

“I had some business to attend to,” Oliver said.

“What _kind_ of business?” Tommy asked.

There was an unnaturally long pause. 

“ _And the memories of me will seem more like bad dreams_ …”

“Do you think Hartley can hear us right now?” he asked.

Hartley sat up in his bed and tipped his head to the side. So Oliver was hiding something from him. _Interesting_.

“ _...someday… you will… be loved…_ ”

“Oh, maybe,” Tommy said. “So why didn't you tell me Barry is The Flash?”

Hartley took a sick sort of satisfaction in hearing the panic in Oliver's heart. He stepped closer to the door to his bedroom even though he didn't really need to in order to hear better.

“Wh-what? He's not…” Oliver stammered.

“Don't lie right to my face!” Tommy snapped. “I thought we were _done_ keeping secrets from each other!”

Hartley's satisfaction was short lived. It wasn't worth it to hear how angry Tommy was.

“It's not my secret to tell, Tommy,” Oliver said sadly. “What Barry is doing is very dangerous for himself and everyone he's close to. It's important that people don't find out who he is behind the mask.”

“But you _know **I**_ can be trusted,” Tommy said.

“And Barry knew he could trust Cisco Ramon,” Oliver said. “But someone still managed to manipulate him into revealing Barry's identity. Secrets are safest when few people know them.”

“Yeah,” Tommy said darkly. “Hart told me about that. Sounds like this Snert guy is a real psychopath.”

“Snart,” Oliver corrected Tommy. “He is. He's a murderer and a thief. Low level mob boss type. And he's just _one_ of the psychopaths Barry has to hide his loved ones from.”

“Okay but, Ollie,” Tommy said. Hartley heard the sound of skin on skin. He wasn't sure if Tommy grabbed Oliver's hand or his arm. “Psychopaths might target just about _anyone_. That's no reason to close yourself off from _everyone_.”

Oliver sighed and his heart rate began to slow. It began to beat in rhythm along with Tommy's. “I know,” he said. “I’m sorry. I should have told you the truth.”

“I’m actually kinda glad, honestly,” Tommy said. “I was starting to think something was going on between you two.”

“You were jealous of _Barry_?” Oliver asked, sounding surprised.

“Yeah,” Tommy said. “I know you like him and he shot you down and all. I thought you were trying to date him and that was why you didn't wanna date _me_.”

There was a long awkward silence. Tommy and Oliver's hearts stopped beating in time and each took on their own rhythms.

“I’m not trying to date anyone. I'm sorry,” Oliver said.

“Me too,” Tommy said. There was another pause, shorter this time. “You should probably go talk to Hartley. He's been listening to Cloud Cult, Tori Amos and Deathcab all afternoon.”

“Oh no,” Oliver said. “Did he get rejected?”

“Uh, not quite,” Tommy said. “But I think you should hear it from him, if he still wants to tell you.”

Oliver sighed. “Okay, I'll go talk to him. Hear that, Hartley? I'm coming up!”

Hartley chuckled softly. It was good to hear Oliver playfully teasing him again. Like his old self. Hartley turned off his sound system. _“they'll cut you down the mid-”_

Hartley listened to the sound of Oliver’s heart and steps as they got louder and closer. “Come in,” Hartley called once Oliver knocked on his bedroom door. Hartley sat back down on his bed as Oliver stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.

“Hey, Hartley,” Oliver said. He walked over to the bed and sat down beside Hartley but at least a foot away. He knew to give Hartley space and Hartley appreciated that.

“Where have you been?” Hartley asked. He was happy to see Oliver and relieved he was okay but he couldn’t help but be rude and curt.

“I’ve been busy taking care of some personal matters,” Oliver said. 

“What? Visiting your mother?” Hartley asked. He sighed. “Never mind, it’s not my business. And neither is… _Thomas_.” Hartley paused briefly. “I’m sorry, Oliver. I behaved badly.”

Oliver sighed again and gave Hartley a brief, soft pat on the shoulder. “It’s okay, I know how you get when you’re upset,” he said. 

“Murderous? Self-destructive? Cruel?” Hartley said. “Just because you are used to my terrible personality, that doesn’t make it alright.”

 

“Well, what are you going to do about it, Hartley?” Oliver asked. “I see you haven’t gone to Central City. Decided not to kill Snart?”

Hartley shrugged.

“Have you ever killed anyone before, Hartley?” Oliver asked.

Hartley paused. “Not directly, no,” he said. 

Oliver frowned and looked at Hartley in confusion and concern. “What do you mean by that?” he asked.

“I helped build the particle accelerator,” Hartley said. “Several people died when it went off.”

“You tried to stop it, though,” Oliver said. “You’re not responsible for those people’s deaths. Dr. Wells is. He should have listened to you.”

Hartley paused and that wretched feeling in his chest was back. Like his heart was being squeezed. It came whenever he thought about the particle accelerator and so he tried not to think about it at all these days. “I _feel_ responsible,” Hartley said, finally putting a name on that feeling. It was guilt. He was beginning to understand it now.

“Well, you’re not,” Oliver said. 

“Killing Snart wouldn’t be like those needless deaths of the innocent,” Hartley said. “Snart is a murderer himself. If I get rid of him, he can’t hurt anyone else.”

“I think you’re underestimating the difficulty of taking another person’s life through deliberate action,” Oliver said. “It’s not easy. At least not the first time.”

Hartley blinked at Oliver in surprise and leaned away from him a little. “Have _you_ killed someone?” he asked.

“I did what I had to do to survive,” Oliver said, eyes dark and expression far, far away for a few moments. 

“Oliver…” Hartley said.

“The people I killed weren’t innocent either,” Oliver said. “Some of them were even worse than Snart. Worse than you can _imagine_. And I regret every one.”

Hartley is taken aback. He can’t think of anything to say for an awkwardly long time. “If they were as bad as you say, why do you regret it?” he asked softly at last.

“Because once you become a killer, you’re tainted for life,” Oliver said. “You can’t take that back. You can’t say you’ve never done anything truly terrible. And that darkness will stain everything you do for the rest of your life.”

Hartley, to his own surprise, was tearing up, feeling a horrible, agonizing tearing in his chest and throat. Grief. _For_ Oliver. “Oh, Oliver… that’s not true,” he said. “That cannot be true.” And empathy. That’s what this was. He’d never felt it before. He understood Oliver’s fear so well he could feel it himself and he hated it.

“It is,” Oliver said.

“No,” Hartley said. He cleared his throat and swallowed down his tears. He wasn’t going to cry (again). “Is that what you think of yourself? That you’re some vile, tainted thing?”

Oliver didn’t say anything in response.

“You’re not,” Hartley said. “You’ve changed since we were children, you can change again.”

“I can’t change from a killer to _not_ a killer,” Oliver said. “It’s already **done**.”

“You can… if you don’t kill again,” Hartley said, grasping. He needed it to be true for his own sake. “You can still be a good person.”

Oliver was silent again for a few moments. He slowly turned to look at Hartley. “Do you really believe that?” he asked.

“Of course I do,” Hartley said. Oliver listening to him, giving him power back in the situation chased away that horrible crushing fear and empathy. Hartley’s soft, sad tone fell away and he was stern and almost bored-sounding again. “Don’t be an ignoramus. You’re _Oliver Queen._ You’ve always done whatever you want. If you want to be a good person, you will be.”

Oliver chuckled softly. “Alright,” he said. “So, are you gonna kill Leonard Snart or what?”

Hartley sighed. “I suppose… it would be awfully hypocritical of me to do so, wouldn’t it?” he said.

Oliver shook his head. “Not hypocritical,” he said. “You see that I’m just looking out for you, right? I don’t want you to feel the way I do. You shouldn’t carry around this kind of guilt.”

Hartley sighed. “I’m certain it’s not the same but I _do_ feel a tremendous amount of guilt as is,” Hartley said. “It is my fault that Cisco was kidnapped.”

 

Oliver stared at Hartley with an unreadable expression for almost 15 seconds. It felt unbearably long to Hartley with nothing but the sounds of pipes and electricity buzzing in the walls to distract him. “What?” Oliver asked finally.

Hartley swallowed around a suddenly dry throat. “I worked for Leonard Snart,” he said.

This pronouncement only got more staring out of Oliver so Hartley had no choice but to sigh and launch into the full explanation. He told Oliver all about how Snart had contacted him, how he’d built him weapons and security for his lair. How he’d helped the man plan a heist to rob his parents. How he’d attacked Harrison Wells, his father’s company building and nearly STAR Labs and The Flash as well. All on encouragement or orders from Snart. “...but Cisco let me go, and I fled rather than give Snart Barry’s name.”

“So you already knew who The Flash was when Snart asked you to find out his name?” Oliver asked.

“Yes,” Hartley said. “But I at least had the sense not to voluntarily reveal The Flash’s identity to such a person.” Hartley sighed and shook his head. “And so, not only did Snart need someone to give him the name, but he also needed an engineer to build him a new gun. Likely one that could stand up against The Flash. My gun was useless for that, but Cisco…” Hartley trailed off, even if it was true, even if he felt the way he felt about Cisco, he couldn’t admit out loud that the other man was more talented than him. “Cisco was a perfect target.”

“It’s not your fault Cisco was kidnapped,” Oliver said. “You made some… questionable choices but nothing impossible to fix.”

“How do you figure that?” Hartley said. “Cisco will _never_ forgive me for working with Leonard Snart. He’ll _hate_ me. He _should_ hate me.”

Oliver shook his head. “I don’t know Cisco Ramon very well at all but the way you and Barry talk about him, he sounds almost too good to be true. I think he’ll forgive you, Hartley. But you have to apologize.”

“Even if I apologize and he forgives me, I’ll never be good enough for him,” Hartley lamented. He could already hear Tori Amos singing in the back of his mind again _“...If the rain has to separate from itself does it say: pick out your cloud?”_ He wanted to slap himself. He was going to pieces over a mere mortal _man._ His ego was on fire.

Oliver paused unnaturally, a new unreadable, frozen look on his face. The silence stretched on long enough to divert Hartley from his misery.

“Oliver?” Hartley said and nudged him with his knuckles against the other man’s shoulder.

“Oh, sorry,” Oliver said. He cleared his throat. “Maybe you were onto something when you told me that I could change.”

“Oh?” Hartley asked. He leaned away from Oliver as if bored and already no longer really listening. “And what is that?” 

 

“If you don’t think you’re good enough for Cisco, you should try to become someone who _is_ ,” Oliver elaborated. “Instead of… laying around in your room listening to Adele all day.”

Hartley looked at Oliver in surprise and then laughed suddenly. In both surprise and relief.. Of all people, Oliver was the one to have advice that Hartley could actually _use._

Become a good man. He would figure it out and the next time he saw Cisco, he would be someone worthy of such a glorious, beautiful, intelligent person. He would prove to Cisco, Wells, even _Leonard Snart_ that Hartley Rathaway was capable of change.

Even if it burned his ego _and_ pride alive.

*~*

The following week, Hartley was kept quite busy with his work. The board had rejected his proposal to allocate funds to his favorite employees' project. He couldn’t believe it when he heard the news from his assistant and he spent the entirety of the day calling each member of the board to personally convince them to change their position. 

All for naught.

He called the employee, Magda Walker, into his office a half hour before quitting time to deliver the bad news.

Magda slumped into the chair opposite Hartley’s desk, her many gold bangles chiming on her wrists. It would be annoying to Hartley if he weren’t so fond of the woman. She was classy, intelligent and very head strong. “They said ‘no’, huh?” she said before Hartley even opened his mouth.

“I am truly very sorry,” Hartley said. “It’s such a promising project, too.”

“Yeah, I’m surprised they said no to _you_ ,” Magda said. “Aren’t you and Mr Merlyn like best pals?”

Hartley nodded. “Yes,” he said. “Thomas and I are very good friends.”

“Well, isn’t he _everybody’s_ boss?” she said. 

“He cannot override the board of directors,” Hartley said. “They have to approve major spending decisions. You understand that-”

Magda waved a hand, her bangles tinkling again. “Oh, believe me, I know how all that corporate BS works,” she said. “I also know money talks. Now, you _know_ my work will be extremely profitable in the long run. All I’m asking is for some philanthropy in the short them, which’ll look amazing to the public and increase consumer confidence.”

“You don’t have to convince me,” Hartley said. “If it were up to me, if I had access to my parent’s fortune, I would fund the project myself.”

“Well then why don’t you ask your best pal to bank roll us?” Magda asked. “The board didn’t reject the project, they rejected giving us _money_.”

Hartley rubbed his chin and considered that for a moment. Did this fall under the category of being a good person? Even if he had to swallow his pride and ask _Tommy_ for money? Giving people limbs that had near-realistic tactile feedback was _surely_ a good thing to do? But how could Hartley trust his own sense of right and wrong?

“Mr. Rathaway?” Magda said after the silence had stretched too long.

“Hm? Forgive me,” Hartley said. He adjusted his glasses on his face and sat up straighter. “I find myself vexed by questions of morality. Your project is likely to lead to a net positive, not in material assets but in human health and happiness. Does that sound accurate to you?”

“Well, yes,” Magda said. “I mean, that’s the whole reason I wanna make these prosthetics.”

“Can you think of any possible reasons anyone might consider your work immoral?” Hartley asked. 

Magda gave a slight start. “Between you and me, I have a feeling some people might get uptight about the possible applications for transgender individuals,” she said. “But those people are just bigots.”

“I see,” Hartley said, brows raising. “Well, then, absolutely your project is morally upright and, I would argue that it is necessary for this technology to be available to anyone who needs it. For _any_ reason.”

“Yeah,” Magda said. She leaned from side to side a few times and her ornate earrings jangled. “Soo?” 

“I will speak to Thomas Merlyn,” Hartley said. “And if he declines to fund our project, I will personally find a way to raise the funds you need.”

Magda stood, smiling radiantly. “You won’t regret it, Mr. Rathaway,” she said. “Thanks for fighting for me.”

Hartely paused and tipped his head to the side. “You’re welcome but I am not doing it for you,” he said. He smiled softly. “You may go. Oh, please also inform Eli, I know they had a special interest in this project as well.”

“I sure will, boss.”

Magda was already walking out the door without a dismissal but Hartley didn’t care. When he’d worked at STAR Labs, he had insisted that his employees treat him with near reverent levels of respect. Now, well…

He had to do better.

For _Cisco_.

Hartley texted Cisco in the cab on the way home. He told his friend about Magda’s project and how he planned to fight tooth and nail to make sure it went through.

**Cisco** : Wow, that is really not like you.

**Hartley** : Which part?

**Cisco** : The part where you’re going to beg Tommy Merlyn for money??

**Cisco** : You wouldn’t even beg him for money when you wrecked your car and had to start taking the bus to work

**Cisco** : You wouldn’t even ask the man for seven grand.

**Hartley** : Good lord, Cisco that is not nearly enough money for a vehicle.

**Cisco** : And now you’re gonna ask him 

**Cisco** : Don’t even get me started on a reasonable price for a vehicle, Rockefeller!

**Cisco** : You wouldn’t even ask Tommy for a down payment on a car but you’re gonna ask him for 2.3 million dollars

**Hartley** : The money is not for ME. This project could, down the line, allow your brother to play piano again.

**Cisco** : That’s the part that’s not like you. It's not selfish at all. 

**Hartley** : Perhaps I’ve changed.

**Cisco** : Yeah. A bit. But you still say stuff like ‘perhaps’.

Hartley laughed and nearly put his phone away when the phone buzzed with another text from Cisco.

**Cisco** : Sorry if I’m grumpy. Shit is not going well here.

Hartley frowned.

**Hartley** : What’s going on?

**Cisco** : I can’t text about it. 

**Hartley** : Should I be worried?

**Cisco** : Aww, you’re worried about me? Maybe you really HAVE changed.

**Hartley** : Francisco ):

**Cisco** : It’s gonna be ok, Hart.

**Hartley** : Should I come home?

**Cisco** : Stay in Starling. PLEASE.

Hartley’s vision began to blur and become bright around the edges. His chest was tight and his throat was closing a little. He swallowed hard and forced himself to respond.

**Hartley** : Please stay safe.

Hartley put his phone away. Anxiety was churning in his gut again and the whine of the engine reminded him of the Music Meister.

He was nearly having a full-blown panic attack by the time he got home. Fortunately, Tommy was there and he had a hand at the small of Hartley’s back, telling him to breathe before Hartley fully registered his presence. 

“It’s okay, Hart,” Tommy was saying. “I’ve got you.”

Hartley took a few more deep breaths and the world stopped spinning a little. He realized he was sitting down one one of those stuffy half-couches in the grand foyer. “I’m sorry, I was just…”

“Over-stimulated, I know,” Tommy said. “It’s okay. Hey, it’s quiet in here, right?’

Hartley chuckled. “Thank you,” he said.

“Did something trigger that, or what?” he asked.

“Oh it’s… probably nothing,” Hartley said. “I was texting Cisco earlier and I believe things have gotten… dicy in Central City.”

“Okay, so we should probably get over there,” Tommy said.

“Cisco expressly asked me to stay in Starling,” Hartley replied, shaking his head. “I think I should respect his wishes.”

Tommy took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Are you sure about that?” he asked. “People don’t always ask for what they need.”

“I know,” Hartley said. 

“Is he in danger?” Tommy asked.

“He is always in danger,” Hartley said. “Due to his association with The Flash.”

“Okay so maybe he wants you to stay away to protect you, or maybe there’s nothing you can do in this situation, huh?” Tommy suggested. “I’m sure it wasn’t personal.”

“It’s impossible for it not to be,” Hartley said. “I asked him if I should come home. I would go to him now and confess all of my sins but he asked me to stay _here_.” Hartley sighed and blinked away tears. “I’ve become… extremely overly sensitive regarding him. I do not know how to cope with it.”

“It’s just how you are, Hartley,” Tommy said. “You’re… extreme about your feelings. It’s gotta be really hard right now.”

“I want to kill everything that hurts him or causes him stress,” Hartley said. He sighed again and rubbed his face with both hands. “Now that is not something a good person would say.”

“I don’t know, Hart, I think in this situation it’s understandable,” Tommy said.

“It is still not _right_ ,” he said. “My mind is so quick to consider violence as an answer. There has to be a better first thought. What should I do instead?”

“Are you… asking me how to react to something that’s happening to Cisco?” Tommy asked.

Hartley gestured to Tommy with one hand. “You’re already helping,” he said. “This is happening to Cisco. Not to me.”

“Right,” Tommy said, eyeing Hartley a little sideways. “It’s happening to Cisco.”

“How would you react if Oliver were in danger?” Hartley asked.

“Oh, I’d be pissed at him, the usual,” Tommy said. “Uh, he… sorta puts himself in danger on purpose.”

“That sounds suicidal,” Hartley said, brows raising at that. “He really should seek professional help.”

“Oh, uh, yeah, he’s at a therapist right now, actually,” Tommy said. “I was gonna say. I guess whatever you said to him last night convinced him to give it a shot.”

“Oh!” Hartley said, shocked. He forgot to be upset about Cisco for a few seconds. “You think it was due to what _I_ said to him?”

“He pretty much told me it was something you said to him,” Tommy said. He smiled softly. “I’m proud of him. And I’m proud of you. But anyway, what was the question? You wanted me to tell you how you should react to something upsetting or hurting the guy you care about?”

“Yes,” Hartley said. “You are the most… decent human being I know, I believe. I don’t trust my own instincts on right and wrong because I do not possess a moral compass.”

“Well, yeah, I always knew you were a sociopath,” Tommy said matter of factly. “But I’m okay with that.”

“Yes,” Hartley said. “So I need to _learn_ how to do the right thing.”

Tommy nodded. “When someone gets hurt? Your instinct should be to comfort them.”

“It seems so obvious when you say it like that,” Hartley said, slumping in his seat. “I truly am a novice at this.”

“I think the important thing is that you _want_ to do the right thing?” Tommy said.

“Even if my reasons are selfish?” Hartley asked.

Tommy shrugged. “I don’t think it’s selfish to want to change _for_ someone,” he said. “You’re doing this for Cisco, right?”

Hartley nodded slowly. 

“If your intentions are good and you make conscious effort to do the right thing, then you’re golden,” Tommy said. 

Hartley frowned. “That doesn’t seem right,” he said. “How can it be that simple?”

“It’s simple but not easy, I guess?” Tommy said. “You know, since you weren’t born with that little voice that tells you right from wrong, you have to work harder at this than other people.”

“Ah, I see,” Hartley said. 

“In a way, that kinda makes it more impressive,” Tommy said.

Hartley gave that some thought in silence for a little while. Tommy sat quietly with him and waited like he always did when Hartley needed to ruminate like this. That was clearly another trait of a good person. Tommy recognized what people needed and tried to give that to him. Hartley would have to remember that and try to implement it. “Thank you, Tommy,” Hartley said at last. “You have been a great deal of help.”

“I have?” Tommy asked. He raised his eyebrows, looking genuinely surprised. “Well good. Anyway, are you hungry? Let’s go get dinner.” 

Hartley was feeling a lot better by the time they got to the restaurant. He let Tommy take him somewhere a bit fancy rather than go to Big Belly Burger again. They were halfway through their meals when Hartley remembered his promise to Magda. “I have something of an awkward favor to ask,” Hartley asked.

“Oh yeah?” Tommy asked. He set his fork down and looked at Hartley expectantly. “Okay, go ahead. You know I'll help you any way I can.”

Hartley took a deep breath and fiddled with his napkin. “I am not certain if I have mentioned before that a pair of my employees have been working on a very promising prosthesis,” Hartley began.

“Oh yeah, you mentioned that,” Tommy said. “What was her name?”

“Magda Walker and her partner Eli,” Hartley said. “Eli is the programmer but they dislike attention so Ms. Walker has been advocating for the project.”

“Is there a problem with the project or something?” Tommy asked. He took a sip of his drink. Rum and coke. 

“The board declined to fund the project,” Hartley said. “It's incredibly disappointing. This technology could change _everything_ for amputees and trans people. There are even potential applications for people suffering from paralysis.”

“Wow, really?” Tommy asked, raising his eyebrows. “Sounds like the exact kinda thing Ray Palmer would have been all about!”

“Yes, but he is impossible to contact right now,” Hartley said. “I already attempted to call him and ask that he speak to the board.”

Tommy scoffed. “Alright, how much do you need?” he asked. “I'll use my mom's money for it. She would have _loved_ the idea of this project.”

“Two and a half million will allow us to build 5 prototype prosthetics for preselected patients,” Hartle said. “Those will be donated to the recipients. Once the prosthetics are ready for commercial sale, I predict the investment will have been returned two fold in increases to Palmer Tech's stock value.”

Tommy nodded. “Yeah, profits, whatever,” he said. “So if I give you five million, you can help ten people, right? It's not like I need the money. You get to help people and we make Ray Palmer even richer when he finally gets his ass back home.”

Hartley laughed. “You would do that?” he asked. “You stand to gain nothing from it.”

Tommy smiled at Hartley. “I’m just doing what I think Palmer would do if he was here,” he said. “He’s a good guy. He deserves to have his legacy protected. Besides, I think I could stand to be more like him anyway.”

Hartley folds his napkin and enjoys the sound of the cloth rubbing together. “Oh?” Hartley asked. “Do you think he is a better person than you?”

“ _Definitely_ ,” Tommy said without hesitation. “He’s an Eagle Scout.”

“So is John Edward Robinson,” Hartley said. “He is a serial killer.”

Tommy laughed. “Ray’s not a serial killer, I don’t think,” he said. “He’s just probably the single nicest human being I’ve ever met. Just… compulsively does the right thing. He’s great. I haven’t even _tried_ to sleep with him. He’s like a unicorn. I can’t sleep with a _unicorn_.”

“That is _quite_ an endorsement,” Hartley said. “Cisco is fond of him, too, I believe. He helped him with some top secret project prior to Barry’s coma.”

Tommy’s expression turned a little serious at the mention of Barry. “Yeah, Ray’s a good man,” he said distractedly. “I hope he comes home so you can meet him. I bet he’d be able to help you figure out your ‘how to be a good person’ problem.”

“My strategy for tackling that issue involves input from multiple people,” Hartley said. “I will keep Mr. Palmer in mind should he become reachable.”

Tommy nodded and went back to eating. 

“I do have a moral dilemma you may be able to assist me with,” Hartley said after a few moments of silence.

Tommy chased his bite of food with his drink and wiped his face with the cloth napkin. “Okay, what is it?” he asks. “Is it about Cisco again?”

“No,” Hartley said. “It's about The Music Meister.”

Tommy nodded. “What about her?”

“I am wondering if I should attempt to speak to Detective Lance again,” Hartley said. “I am wondering if I should tell him the truth. Everything I know about her.”

Tommy sighed and rubbed his chin in thought. “I don't know, Hart,” he said. “Quentin is sort of an asshole.”

“Yes, but he is also Dinah's father and he has no idea what he is attempting to investigate, what the culprit is capable of,” Hartley said. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, trying in vain to stave off a tension headache.

“I think it's a good thing you're thinking about it, though,” Tommy said. “You want my advice? Keep thinking about it a while. Ollie's been on the lookout for any other suspicious deaths that could be linked back to her. There haven't been since Markson and whatshisname. Far as I know...”

"Andrew Gaits," Hartley reminded Tommy. "I will keep thinking about. However, if there is another attack or even a suspicious suicide, I will go speak to Detective Lance."

"Yeah, anyway, you should call your employees and tell them the funding is secured," Tommy said. "I'm ready to go if you are?"

"Yes," Hartley said. "I will call Ms. Walker from the car and give her the good news."


	8. Reunited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cisco is coming to Starling City for a visit. Hartley has to think fast.

It was a huge weight off of Hartley’s shoulders, knowing that the prosthetics project would be funded. He called Magda Walker first, of course and told her the good news and then he immediately texted Cisco while Tommy drove them home.

**Hartley:** Thomas agreed to fund the project! I will be in touch with you about adding Dante to the list of candidates for the beta release.

It took Cisco a few minutes to text Hartley back. Hartley listened to the radios in nearby cars and practiced bending the soundwaves as they reached his ears, undoing the doppler effect. It was like tuning a guitar with his mind. One that had an uncountable number of strings. 

He was startled when his phone finally vibrated in his hand with Cisco’s response.

**Cisco:** Are you actually talking about building my brother a new hand??

Hartley furrowed his brow. He’d expected a different response. Something excited or congratulatory. 

**Hartley:** Yes, of course. I had mentioned this to you previously.

“Why are you looking at your phone like it insulted you?” Tommy said, glancing over at Hartley at a stop light. “You looked happy a second ago and now you’re all…” Tommy scowled exaggeratedly and then pulled up when the light changed. 

“I am not,” Hartley said. He looked back down at his phone.

**Cisco:** How sure are you this’ll work? You really think he’ll be able to play piano again?

Hartley sighed and looked up at Tommy. “I was informing Cisco of my intention to add his brother to the list of people who will be receiving a free prosthetic.”

“Huh? Cisco has a brother?” Tommy asked. “Oh! Right. You mentioned that whole thing… about Snart. We’re home.” Tommy pulled into the driveway and put the car in park. He didn’t get out of the car right away, however. “So, what’s the problem? Isn’t he happy?”

“He seems skeptical,” Hartley said. “Which is fair. He hasn’t seen the results of the testing or the schematics. It’s all proprietary, of course.”

“I have no idea what that means, but if he needs to see it for himself, invite him over?” Tommy said. “I mean, I’m sure The Flash can live without his sidekick for a minute.”

“Don’t ever call Cisco a sidekick!” Hartley snapped before he could stop himself. He bit down lightly on the tip of his tongue. “Please excuse my outburst.”

Tommy laughed. “Okay, alright, no, I’m sorry,” he said. “No disrespect to Cisco.”

Hartley nodded. 

“Invite him to Starling,” Tommy said. “Give him a tour of the lab. Then seduce him.”

Hartley swatted Tommy gently with the back of his hand and then got out of the car. He composed his text to Cisco while walking and Tommy followed after him. His foot falls were a comforting beat in Hartley’s ears

**Hartley:** You should come to Starling City, speak to the engineers personally. I am certain you will get along with them and be impressed by their work. Perhaps you can even give them suggestions on improving upon it.

**Cisco:** Are you serious right now?? I’ll get back to you on when I can get out there. I definitely wanna see your swanky office. And Tommy’s giant mansion. You will let me spend the night, right?

Hartley bit his bottom lip and tucked his phone in his pocket. 

“Okay, what happened?” Tommy asked. “And remember, you still owe me for all that stuff you said to and about Oliver. I so deserve to hear about what’s going on with you and Cisco.”

“Nothing is going on,” Hartley said. “He made a comment about spending the night in the mansion.”

“Sounds great!” Tommy said. “He’ll have to share your room. The other guest rooms will be being painted when Cisco arrives.”

“Cisco hasn’t said when he intends to arrive!” Hartley exclaimed, huffing. Tommy wasn’t wrong (maybe) that Hartley owed it to him to let him in on his love-lorn drama but that didn’t mean he had to like it. He sighed and they entered the mansion through the side entrance, down the long hallway to one of the sitting rooms. Hartley slumped into a couch, listening for Oliver’s and Thea’s heartbeats. They weren’t present. He counted six other people. Maids and guards, presumably. All familiar sounding heartbeats but Hartley didn’t have faces or names to put with them.

“You’re going to tell him, though, right?” Tommy asked. “You’re going to tell him about all the bad shit you did, apologize and all?”

Hartley pinched the bridge of his nose and pushed his glasses up his face. “I will,” he said. “In time.” He adjusted his glasses and watched Tommy take a seat opposite him on a squishy armchair. “I am tired, Thomas. It’s been an exhausting day.” It had been an exhausting couple of years, if he was honest. Hartley almost wanted to laugh.

“Aw, I guess you won’t wanna go dancing with me tonight either, then,” Tommy said, pouting. “I already asked Ollie but he said he had stuff to do.”

Hartley rolled his eyes. “What could he possibly have to do?” he asked. “He has no job. He’s not in school. He has no apparent hobbies aside from meditation and apparently training super heroes.”

Tommy laughed anxiously. “Ahh, yeah, that’s Ollie alright,” he said. “Maybe he’s training Barry? Who knows?”

Hartley frowned at Tommy and leaned forward. “You’re _lying_ to me,” he said.

“No I’m not, what the heck?” Tommy exclaimed, laughing again.

“You are clearly hiding something,” Hartley insisted. He sat back and crossed his arms. “What is it? What are you and Oliver hiding? Where does Oliver _go_?”

“I really don’t know where he went tonight,” Tommy said. He stood. “I think I’d better get washed up and changed for the club.”

“You’re not going to _Verdant_ again?” Hartley said, aghast.

“Of _course_ I’m going to Verdant,” Tommy said. “Where else would I go?”

Hartley shook his head. “I just would have thought the place would bring back bad memories,” he said. “Fine. If you can’t tell me Oliver’s secret, I’ll just find out on my own.”

Tommy’s expression suddenly became serious. “Hart, leave it be, I’m serious,” he said. “Oliver is going through stuff. You know that. If you violate his privacy, it’ll set him back and he’ll get _really_ mad.”

Hartley raised his eyebrows at Tommy. “Oh?” he said. “Should I be **afraid** of making Oliver Queen _really_ mad at me?”

Tommy let out a long, slow breath through his teeth. “Just trust me on this,” he said. “You wanna be a good person? You have you respect people’s boundaries.” With that, Tommy left for his personal bathroom.

Hartley sat for a few moments before taking out his phone. 

**Hartley:** There are plenty of guest bedrooms here. We would be delighted to host you.

Cisco’s reply didn’t come right away. Hartley sat there, staring at his phone and listening to the sound of the wind through the trees outside the window.

**Cisco:** What? You’re not even gonna try to get me to spend the night in your room?

Hartley _blushed_. He couldn’t believe it. Cisco hadn’t said anything terribly explicit. Even if he had, there was no reason for Hartley to blush like a virgin. But there he was, staring at his phone and feeling hot and bothered over the mere suggestion of Cisco being in his room.

Hartley took a few calming breaths. It would be so unbelievably easy to flirt back. Hartley was gritting his teeth as he composed his reply.

**Hartley:** It would be disrespectful to host you with ulterior motives in mind.

Cisco’s replies came rapidly. One after another. 

**Cisco:** Wow

**Cisco:** idk what to say

**Cisco:** I can’t tell if you’re being sweet or what

**Cisco:** Are you dying??

Hartley let out a humorless laugh.

**Hartley:** No. I am not unwell. I have merely gained some perspective on certain matters. No need to worry.

It took a few minutes for Cisco to reply again. Hartley wondered if he was busy or if, like himself, Cisco had needed time to figure out what to say next.

**Cisco:** I’ll let you know when I find time to come down to Starling. I hope you tell me what’s going on with you. Not sure if I like it or not.

**Cisco:** I mean, you’re being a lot nicer to me than you used to.

**Cisco:** So that’s good.

**Cisco:** Are you sure nothing’s wrong?

**Hartley:** Nothing is wrong. I am a bit tired. I think I will be turning in early. Good night, Cisco.

Hartley turned his phone off so he wouldn’t be tempted to text something flirtatious to Cisco to walk-back the awkwardness. He went up to bed and crashed, falling almost instantly asleep as soon as he laid down in bed. He barely managed to set his phone and glasses on the nightstand and turn his hearing aids down to ‘softly quiet’.

He slept deeply but had nightmares of himself luring Cisco to drown using only his voice to seduce him.

*~*

The next morning, Hartley woke and changed into his pajamas and robe. He could hardly believe he’d gone to bed in his clothes but he had the pressure marks in his skin to prove it. He remembered to grab his phone but it was still powered off and he was focused on getting coffee from the kitchen. Then he went down to the home theater to sit between Thea and Tommy while old cartoons played on the big screen. The three of them were quiet as they sipped their coffees and ate cronuts, each allowing the others time to collect their thoughts for the day.

Hartley was the first to speak. “Did Oliver never come home last night?” he asked.

“Probably,” Thea answered. Her gaze was fixed on the cartoon cat filling most of the screen in front of them. “I wouldn’t worry about it. He stays out all night sometimes.”

Hartley opened his mouth to ask a probing question but Tommy caught his eye and he desisted. It wasn't his business what Oliver was up to. "Well, he's missing an excellent lineup this morning," Hartley said, gesturing at the screen. "How was the club last night, Thomas?"

Tommy shrugged. "It was alright," he said. "Woulda been more fun with you there, Hart." He grinned and nudged Hartley with his elbow. "I danced with a really gorgeous guy. I didn’t get his name but he left a ton of glitter all over me.” 

Hartley looked at Tommy. He as far more sparkly than usual, now that Hartley looked. 

"Who? Gabriel?" Thea asked. "The guy with the _amazing_ hair? He was wearing a bunch of butterflies in it last night." Thea grinned. "He _is_ gorgeous. And a _great_ dancer."

"Yeah, that's the one," Tommy said. He sighed and sank into the couch. 

"Did you get his number?" Thea asked, bouncing in her seat slightly.

Tommy shook his head. "He danced with me for one song and slipped away..."

"Who is this Gabriel?" Hartley asked. He'd been sipping his coffee in pensive silence until now but now he was curious.

Thea shrugged. "He's sorta a new regular at Verdant," she said. "He's been there one night a weekend for the past few months or so."

Hartley frowned in concentration. "Was he there the last time I was there?" he asked.

"You know, I think he was!" Thea said. 

"Then perhaps he witnessed something to do with Music Meister," Hartley said. "It sounds like he would be worth talking to, at the very least."

" _Definitely_ ," Tommy said.

Hartley was about to tell Tommy off for his somewhat lustful tone but he heard a strange whine that rose and fell in pitch. Almost like a violin string warped by the doppler effect but it left Hartley's ears itching. A beautiful noise but _irritating._ He shook his head slightly and then he could suddenly hear Oliver's heartbeat, as if he had just appeared at the front door. "Oliver is home," Hartley told Thea and Tommy.

"You can hear him?" Thea asked.

Tommy laughed. "Oh, right," he said. "I was wondering how you could know that."

The three of them were all staring at the entrance to the theater when Oliver came in. He gave a slight start at the sight of them all staring at him. "What?" he said. "You weren't waiting for me this whole time, were you? You're missing Tiny Toon Adventures."

Thea rolled her eyes and turned back toward the screen. "Hartley heard you come in," she said.

Hartley merely raised his eyebrows at Oliver and turned back toward the screen. He was quickly putting together how Oliver had just suddenly appeared and what that odd buzzing had been.

Oliver joined the rest of them on the couch, sitting next to Tommy. "Did you have a good night?" Oliver asked Tommy.

"Yeah, went out dancing," he said. "I didn't drink this time. Just smoked a joint. Or two." 

"Yeah, you don't look hungover," Oliver said. He was gazing at Tommy in a way that made Hartley nauseous. 

"How's Barry?" Hartley asked, just to get Oliver to stop looking at Tommy like that. All sappy and earnest. 

Oliver frowned at Hartley. "What makes you think I was…" he trailed off and sighed. "Barry is… Barry."

Tommy laughed. "Sounds like it would have been more fun to go dancing with me," he said.

"It would have," Oliver said. He smiled at Tommy.

"You should come next time, Ollie," Tommy said. "There's a regular we should talk to. Gabriel. He was there… you know, when me and Hartley went that time."

"Oh?" Oliver said. He sat up straighter. "Maybe it would be best just to track him down and talk to him somewhere quieter."

"That would be weird, wouldn't it?" Tommy asked. "He didn't give me his number last night. This is a little like stalking."

"I'll contact him, don't worry about it," Oliver said. "Do you have his information at Verdant, Thea? Has he ever used a credit card there?"

Thea laughed and shook her head. "He's never had to buy his own drink," she said. "Probably never in his _life._ "

“Have you noticed him dancing with anyone regularly? Talking to anyone in particular?” Oliver asked.

“Oh, quit interrogating me,” Thea said. “Just come to the club next Friday night, I’m sure he’ll be there. You can talk to him then.”

Oliver huffed. “Fine, I guess I’ll have to leave it alone,” he said.

Hartley side-eyed him. He could tell that Oliver was lying and he _really_ wanted to ask him why but Tommy must have noticed the way he was looking at Oliver and nudged Hartley with his elbow.

*~*

It was a very nice weekend. Hartley didn’t hear from Cisco much but he was enjoying spending time with Tommy and Oliver. They were both more relaxed than Hartley had seen them since he’d moved to Starling City. Joking with each other, even _flirting_ a little once before Oliver awkwardly cleared his throat and hastily changed the subject.

Hartley did his best to mind his own business. It was such a strain not to roll his eyes or make a snotty remark sometimes that it made his head hurt. But he went to bed each night feeling a little better about himself. Thinking that maybe, just maybe it was possible for him to change enough to be worthy of Cisco.

It was Sunday night when Hartley discovered the reason Cisco had been busy. A copy cat of an old criminal called The Trickster had kept The Flash (and by the transitive property; Cisco) quite busy for several days. It made Hartley’s throat tighten and his chest hurt to be reminded of the dangerous sociopaths that were a constant threat to Cisco. Hartley was finding himself wishing The Flash well, if only so he could do a better job of keeping Cisco safe going forward.

If anything happened to Cisco again, it wouldn’t just be the culprit who had to answer. Hartley would have a few choice words for Bartholomew Henry Allen as well.

After a fairly enjoyable weekend, Hartley went back to work in a very good mood. The funds had already been allocated so his team was quite busy this week. During a rare lull in activity (waiting for code to compile), Hartley finally heard from Cisco again and it was all he could do not to jump up and do a little dance when he read the text.

**Cisco:** Good(ish) news! I’m coming up to Starling tomorrow morning. Joe needs my help investigating something over there so I told him I’m staying with you. Hope that’s alright?

Hartely used some of the new meditative techniques Oliver had taught him this weekend. Between them and his fixation on Cisco, he was able to confine the range of his hearing to just the inside of his office. Of course, that just made it easier to hear every discreet sound individually and all at once within the confines but it was better than the auditory mud he was accustomed to. He took one last deep breath and texted Cisco back.

**Hartley:** Of course that’s alright. I have already extended the invitation. I am certain there is also room for this Joe person?

**Cisco:** Joe is a cop. He’s my friend’s dad and there’s no way he’s gonna wanna stay in the Merlyn Mansion.

Hartley paused. A Joe who was the father of one of Cisco’s friends. Hartley knew that Caitlin’s father was dead and Barry’s father is named Henry Allen. A prisoner and definitely not a cop.

**Hartley:** Which friend is this? It’s been a while since I was familiar with your social circle.

It takes several minutes for Cisco’s replies to come in.

**Cisco:** My friend Iris.

**Cisco:** Remember that coma patient me and Cate took care of? Iris is his… something. Anyway, Joe is her dad. He’s gonna stay in a hotel so don’t worry.

Barry has some woman named Iris in his life? Hartley wondered if that eliminated Barry as a potential romantic rival but he just shrugged the information off. 

**Hartley:** What time should we expect you? I can have a car come pick you up from wherever you end up at the end of the investigation.

**Cisco:** Joe’s gonna drop me off. I’ll call you when I’m on the way. So can I come see your lab and meet your crew on Friday, then?

Hartley smiled at the idea. **Hartley:** That would be lovely. Perhaps you’ll consider defecting from STAR Labs.

Cisco’s reply was delayed by a few minutes again.

**Cisco:** Haha, maybe… 

Hartley would have to consider that a win.

*~*

Hartley was in an excellent mood when he got home that day. He found Tommy in the gaming room. A whole room dedicated to every video game console that had ever come out and nearly every game. Tommy was busy trying to beat a level in Mario 3 so Hartley sat on one of the couches to wait. 

Tommy paused the game right away. “What’s up, Hart?” he asked. “Good day at work?”

“You can keep playing your game, it can wait,” Hartley said, smiling.

“Nahh, the _game_ can wait,” he said. “What’s up? Is this about Cisco?”

Hartley tossed one of the many throw pillows at Tommy. "You would make an excellent lawyer," he said. "The way you ask questions you already know the answer to."

Tommy laughed. "Yeah, well… I spent a lot of time with Laurel while Ollie was… away," he said and rubbed the back of his neck. "So, what about Cisco?"

Hartley winced. “Well, I suppose it makes sense that you and Laurel would ‘hook up’,” he said. 

“Yeah, no, I know it’s kinda messed up…” Tommy said.

Hartley shook his head. “You both… loved him and missed him,” he said. “Even I can understand that.”

“Yeah, but enough talk about sad junk,” Tommy said. “You’re stalling. What’s going on with Cisco?”

Hartley smiled. “He’ll be here tomorrow evening,” he said. “I hope you’ll have a room made ready for him.”

Tommy sighed and shook his head. “You’re really not gonna share rooms with him?” he asked.

“I am only a _man_ , Thomas,” Hartley said. “I am attempting to save myself from temptation. I need to have a long, harrowing conversation with him before even considering inviting him into my bedroom.”

Tommy shrugged. “Have it your way. He can have the room right next to yours. You’ll have to share a bathroom.”

“Good,” Hartley said. “Please let Thea and Oliver know. I have some work to do before bed.” Hartley retired to his room and spent the next few hours working on his sound gauntlets so that they could play the frequency most likely to obliterate that Dementor. It would probably be more efficient for him to be there to scream the Dementor to death himself but just in case, there was no sense revealing his secret. 

The whole next day at work, Hartley was very busy. There were circuit boards to solder and potential patients to call. It was a good thing Hartley had so much work to do because he didn’t hear from Cisco at all until he was already on his way home from work in an Uber.

**Cisco:** Hey, sorry I didn’t text all day. It was a crazy day and I can’t/don’t want to talk about it. I’ll be at Merlyn’s in an hour. Joe’s taking me out for a drink first.

**Cisco:** I promise I won’t be drunk. ;)

Hartley smiled and then glanced at the driver in the rearview mirror to make sure he wasn’t watching him. The driver was watching the road and not trying to engage Hartley in conversation at all. That was the exact kind of driver Hartley preferred. Even if it reminded him slightly of the emotionless drones who used to shuttle him from place to place as a child. 

**Hartley:** I’ll look forward to it. Your guest room is already prepared.

**Cisco:** See you soon.

Hartley was practically trembling in both nerves and excitement. As soon as he got home, he took a shower and blow dried his hair. He changed into the vibrant green silk shirt Tommy had bought him and a pair of black slacks that cost more than most people’s whole wardrobes. 

Almost as soon as he was done getting dressed, Hartley got the text that Cisco was on his way. He could already hear Cisco’s heartbeat in his city. He could pick it out like a beacon shining against a black sky. LIke it was the only sound in the universe. He listened as the sound grew louder and the beats quicker together. He picked up on the sound of another heartbeat once Cisco was within blocks of his home. Hartley assumed that was Joe’s.

Once Cisco’s heartbeat sounded close enough, Hartley moved to the entrance hall. He wasn’t surprised when Oliver, Tommy and Thea all joined him. Fortunately, they were quiet. A few minutes later, his companions could hear the car pull up and the engine shut off. Hartley sighed softly in irritation when he heard the sound of the other heartbeat joining Cisco in the walk up to the door. He stifled a laugh at hearing what must have been Joe telling the butler not to bother with the luggage. “He can haul his own stuff,” Joe said. 

The doorbell rang a moment later and Thea nudged Hartley out of the way so that she could open the door before Hartley could. “Hi,” she said. “Welcome to the Merlyn Mansion. I’m Thea Queen. You must be Joe and _you_ must be _Cisco_.”

“That’s right,” Joe said. Hartley was impressed with him immediately. Much as he dislikes cops, Joe just seemed genuine and kind. “I just wanted to touch base with everyone before I leave Cisco with you. I can be a little over-protective. You understand.”

“Of course!” Thea said. “Come on in and meet the crew.” Thea stepped aside and opened the door and Hartley and Cisco could finally lay eyes on one another.

Hartley heard Cisco’s heart-rate pick up in pace again as soon as their gazes met. Cisco opened his mouth to say something but then Oliver and Tommy were shaking Joe’s hand in turn and introducing themselves. Hartley could barely hear them over the racket of Cisco’s heart, the gentle harp-song of his hair brushing up against itself and Cisco’s shoulders. 

It was different than how most people sounded. Hartley attributed that to his hyper-focus. 

“Well, we already met the once,” Joe was saying to Oliver and Tommy. “You remember, that time you came to visit Barry?”

“Oh, right!” Tommy said. “You look kinda different now.”

Joe laughed. “Well, I’m not dying of worry and I got a good haircut and shave since then,” he said. “I won’t keep you. I know Barry has a high opinion of you, Oliver and that’s good enough for me.”

“Yeah, Barry’s pretty fond of Oliver,” Cisco said, smiling a crooked smile. 

Hartley’s very heart started singing along to the sound of Cisco’s muscles moving into a smile. 

“It’s good to see you again, Hart,” Cisco said, breaking through Hartley’s romanticizing about the symphony of his body.

“It is nice to see you also,” Hartley said. He could almost hear Oliver and Tommy giving each other meaningful looks behind his back.

“Take good care of him, Hartley,” Joe said. “I know you got into trouble back in Central City but that’s all water under the bridge now, you understand?”

Hartley nodded. “Yes,” He said. “And I promise I won’t do anything like that again.”

“Just promise you’ll only use those tactics against real enemies and we’re cool,” Joe said. And then he left after thanking Tommy for his hospitality.

“Ohh, wow, Joe got _hot_ ,” Tommy said as soon as the door was closed behind Joe.

Hartley rolled his eyes. “He’s as old as Moira,” he said.

Cisco just laughed.

Oliver let out a huff of a breath but he didn’t comment. “We should let Cisco settle in,” he said. “Hartley can show him to his room. Won’t you Hartley?”

“Ohh, I’m sure he will,” Thea said.

“Mhm,” Tommy agreed. “You should show him your room, too, Hart.”

“I can give you a whole tour,” Hartley said. “Just leave your bags here, Cisco. The staff will bring it up.”

“Uh, no,” Cisco said. He heaved his bag up onto his shoulder. “I’m not letting anybody touch my stuff. No offense. I’m sure the staff here are really good but I’ve got some delicate stuff in here.”

“Very well,” Hartley said. He gestured for Cisco to follow him and led him up the grand staircase to the second floor where all the guest rooms were. “Did you have a nice trip here?”

“We took the train,” Cisco said, walking beside Hartley as they made their way up the stairs. “I’m probably gonna turn in early tonight. You work early, yeah?”

“I have to be in at nine am,” Hartley said. “I’ve already gotten you a visitor’s badge so you will be allowed to see our labs and our prototype. Here is your room. It’s beside mine.” Hartley opens the door for Cisco revealing a suite much like his own. A sitting area, bed, desk, mini fridge and a private bathroom with a shower stall. “There is a bathtub in my ensuite bathroom if you have need of a soak.”

“That’s cool,” Cisco said. He set his bag on the desk and walked around, looking at things. “This house is nuts. It looks like a whole small town from the road. Gates and multiple buildings.”

“I can show you the whole grounds if you like,” Hartley said. “There is the guest house, the pool house, the building housing the back up generators and a building for the grounds keeper’s equipment.”

“At the risk of sounding rude, I really don’t care,” Cisco said. He flopped down on the couch. “I wanna talk to you before we do anything else so come take a seat.”

It was impossible for Hartley to resist Cisco’s demand. He sat down beside the other man and looked at him expectantly for a moment. Then realized that he was using manipulative tactics and cleared his throat. He didn’t want to try to have the upper hand in the conversation. He had to practice treating people like equals. “Very well,” he said. “What did you wish to speak about?”

“So, um,” Cisco began. “This is pretty awkward… I just wanted to ask you in person if you want me to stop trying to flirt with you.”

Hartley blinked, caught off guard. He expected Cisco to be confused about him continually avoiding his advances but hadn’t expected him to ask outright. “Oh,” Hartley said. “I see… No. I would not ask you to alter your behavior.”

“Okay?” Cisco said. “But you just don’t seem receptive to it so I figured there must be a reason. LIke, are you seeing someone?”

“No, I am not,” Hartley said. 

Cisco nodded. “Okay… so is it _me_?” he asked. “It just seems like… when you first moved out here, you were flirting with me and then you suddenly stopped. And I’ve been thinking about it and it happened right after I was, uh, kidnapped and stuff.”

Hartley nodded. “Yes,” he said. He was beginning to sweat from nerves. He rubbed his forehead to clear the sweat and hoped that Cisco didn’t notice. “Your memory is accurate. But it is not about you, not directly.”

“Okay…” Cisco said. “So, what’s the deal? You know I’m into you, I know you’re into me. What’s the problem?”

“The problem is….” Hartley sighed and looked away. “I am not good enough for you. For any and all definitions of the term ‘good.’”

“Why not?” Cisco asked. “It’s not like I’m unaware of what kind of man you are.”

“That is not the man that I _want_ to be,” Hartley admitted. It was painful and hard to say those things but it would have been much harder to tell the _whole_ truth. Or, god forbid, lie. 

“But that’s a man I _like_!” Cisco insisted. “I like you for who you are right now and I’ll still like you if, and when, you change.”

“Please understand,” Hartley said. “I like you a _great deal._ I like you so much that the idea of you being with someone like _me_ is offensive.”

Cisco sighed. But then he smiled at Hartley. “You _like_ me,” he said almost tauntingly. “‘A great deal,’ even.” 

“Yes,” Hartley said.

“Well, that’s ‘good enough’ for me,” Cisco insisted. “I don’t understand what’s going on with you. Now I’m _worried_. You having self-esteem issues is a _problem_.”

“I have realized recently that the way I have been treating people is wrong,” Hartley said. “I am making strides to improve myself as a person. I cannot be a good anything to you right now so I am starting with trying to be a good _friend_.”

“Alright, that I can understand,” Cisco said. “You wanna be a better person, that’s _great_ and I support it. I don’t see why that means we can’t fool around… Your… uh, personality problems didn’t translate to being bad in bed.”

“That’s the thing,” Hartley said. “I wouldn’t want to just ‘hook up’ with you. I would hope to improve myself so that I can be a man worthy to stand by your side. Preferably as one of your boyfriends.”

Cisco raised his eyebrows at that. “One of?” he asked. “Wait. You wanna be my _boyfriend_?”

“Some day,” Hartley said. “If you would have me.”

Cisco grinned. “And I’m telling you, I’d have you _right now_. You wanna take me on real dates? Buy me candy and flowers and shit? I’m game for that. But you want me to have _multiple_ boyfriends?”

“Or girlfriends or partners of a nonbinary gender, whatever you prefer,” Hartley said. “All I am saying is that I intend to improve myself until I am good enough for you. I will not ask you to wait but I would hope that you will have a place for me in your life when the time comes.”

Cisco nodded and sighed, his grin fading. “Okay, I can deal with that,” he said. “Someday is a lot better than me not knowing if you’re even into me anymore.”

“Oh, Cisco,” Hartley said. “The day will never come where I am no longer into you.”

“Alright, cool,” Cisco said. “ _Now_ I wanna see the rest of this swanky house!”


	9. Reprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hartley does something kind of dumb. Music Meister returns with her new *hit* single.
> 
> THIS IS WHERE THE 'GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE' ARCHIVE WARNING BECOMES REALLY RELEVANT.

The tour of the grounds went well. By the time Cisco and Hartley returned to the second floor of the mansion, it was nearing 10 at night and any residual nervousness Hartley had was nothing more than his general, background anxiety over Music Meister, Wells and Snart. But Hartley tried not to think about his nemesis or his ex bosses. He tried to just enjoy Cisco’s company. He focused on the fact that while Cisco may not fully understand his reasons for not wanting a sexual or romantic entanglement, he was at least apparently willing to remain friends for the time being. It was the best Hartley could have hoped for. 

Hartley started to bid good night at the door to Cisco’s bedroom, but Cisco spoke first.

“Do you wanna come in for a minute?” 

“I…” 

"“I’m not hitting on you." Cisco rolled his eyes and tilted his head from side to side in a way that elicited another symphony from his hair. "Just… Come sit down a minute,” he said and then turned and entered his room without looking back. Like he knew Hartley would follow.

Of course, Hartley did, he was finding it very difficult to resist what Cisco asked of him. Almost like being under Music Meister’s thrall. He was happy to obey.

He filed that information away for later.

Hartley sat on the couch beside Cisco but, Hartley didn’t know what to say and Cisco was just _looking_ at him. It was similar to the way Hartley would behave during a difficult conversation. Letting the silence stretch until the other party was too uncomfortable and spoke first just to break the awkward silence. 

Hartley almost laughed at the irony. “Alright, Cisco, I’m here,” Hartley said. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Dude, there is _so much_ I wanna talk about,” Cisco said. “I don’t even know where to start. I don’t even know what I can even tell you or… what’s even true…”

“Are you alright, Cisco?” Hartley asked, worried anew. Now that he thought about it, Cisco’s heart-rate had been consistently above normal all day. Hartley had assumed (hoped) that it was due to Cisco being attracted to him. Now he was wondering if it was anxiety this whole time.

“Hell _no_ , I’m not alright,” Cisco said, half laughing. “If I look _half_ as bad as I feel, I shouldn’t have left the house today!”

Hartley frowned. He hadn’t noticed it before because he had been blinded by the beautiful sounds that Cisco’s body makes but Cisco looked a little _unhealthy_. His skin is a bit ashy, odd for _Cisco Ramon_ and his daily skincare routine. Not to mention his hair, unbrushed, sporting **split ends**? _Unheard of_ . There were dark circles under his eyes and he looked generally pinched. 

Hartley swallowed a hot well of rage at Leonard Snart, assuming Cisco’s distress was secondary to that trauma. “Oh, I thought you looked radiant as always but you do appear a bit tired now that you mention it,” Hartley said. 

Cisco almost smiled at the compliment. “Yeah, thanks, I’m having a hard time sleeping,” he said. “I keep having nightmares a-about being _murdered_.”

While Hartley knew he was supposed to try to comfort Cisco, he wasn’t sure how. He made an abrupt gesture with his hand and then pulled it back toward himself. “I am sorry, Cisco. What can I do to help you?” The question was something he’d _learned_ was the right thing to say by researching. He felt clumsy asking it.

Cisco sighed. “You’re already doing it? Listening is good. You could hug me or something.”

“I am not very good at hugging but I will endeavor to try." Hartley slowly, awkwardly wrapped his arms around Cisco.

Cisco laughed and grabbed Hartley’s wrists to help position Hartley’s arms before returning the embrace. Hartley felt like he died a little when Cisco rested his forehead against his shoulder. It was far different from being hugged by anyone else. Hugging Cisco didn’t make his skin crawl the way it always did with anyone else. He just felt warm and safe and the smell of Cisco’s hair was filling Hartley’s head along-side the enticing music of Cisco’s body. Hartley was beginning to feel almost dizzy. But in a pleasant way… But then Cisco let go fairly quickly. Hartley wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or relieved. It was probably for the best that they did not have too much prolonged physical contact.

Hartley didn’t need to be tempted any more than he already was. “Not very good at it is an understatement,” Cisco said. “You need practice. A lot of practice.”

“Hm… I’m not a big fan of hugging,” Hartley said. "Tommy has been trying to get me to like hugs since we were small children.”

“Yeah, let’s talk about _that_ instead of my freaky nightmares. You’ve known Tommy and Oliver a long time, huh? You never mentioned that. I never saw anything about you in the sort of tabloids they're usually in.”

“Oh, yes, well, you and I met shortly after I was disowned by my parents. I had lost contact with them due to the… um… drama surrounding it all,” Hartley said. “In truth, I wasn’t speaking to Thomas and Thea at the time. Thomas had encouraged me several times since I was 16 to come out to my parents. I did so three years later. I, mistakenly, laid the blame for the fall out on Thomas."

“Why would Tommy tell you to come out to your parents? Did he not _know_ that they’re bigots??” Cisco asked.

“He was trying to help. Hiding it was worse for my health than being disowned. I can see that clearly, now. At the time, I was frightened, angry and lashed out.” Hartley shrugged. “And then, shortly after…”

“Yeah, that was when Oliver disappeared, right?”

“Yes, and then a few months later, I met you,” Hartley said. “At the height of my bitterness and too angry to be afraid.” 

Cisco let out a low whistle. “That explains a few things,” he said. “So, on a happier subject? When did you meet Tommy and Oliver?”

“When I was six. I was dragged along to attend the funeral of Tommy’s mother. Oliver had gotten discouraged with trying to cheer Tommy up at the luncheon afterward so he came over and talked to me.” Hartley smiled. “He told me some joke that nearly made me laugh out loud. Our parents saw us getting along and they decided that we should spend more time together.”

“Oliver told a joke? Oliver knows _jokes_?” Cisco asked. “He just… always seems so serious and… uh… stuck up.”

“He is traumatized and only _recently_ began seeking help,” Hartley said. “If you see him interact with Tommy, on occasion, he is like his old self again.”

“What was he like?” Cisco asked. “Before the island, I mean. Has he changed a lot?”

“In many ways, he is the same,” Hartley said. “But he used to be carefree, a little wild, honestly. The tabloids missed very little and exaggerated not at all.”

“Oh damn,” Cisco said, clearly enthralled.

“He was very _sweet_ to me, though,” Hartley said. “Like a good, older brother. A bit stupid. He truly didn’t realize how terribly he treated women. I’m glad he’s outgrown that. Although, as I understand it, he has a lot to learn about how to treat his male partners as well.”

“Wha- he’s not _straight_?” Cisco asked in hushed tones.

“No,” Hartley said, taken aback by a sudden prickly feeling of _guilt_. “I’m sorry, I thought you were a bit more familiar with him. As I understand it, you have a mutual friend, Barry?”

“Yeah, my coma patient,” Cisco said. “He still comes around STAR Labs a lot. He idolizes… Wells.” Cisco winced.

“I understand, the man is brilliant,” Hartley said patiently.

“Never mind Wells,” Cisco said. “I’ve met Oliver a few times but we never really got to know each other.. Didn’t get that vibe off of him. What guys has he been after?”

“That is why I was surprised you didn’t know,” Hartley said. “He was interested in Barry. May still be?”

“Holy shit!” Cisco exclaimed. He covered his mouth with both hands. “ _Holy shit_.” He uncovered his mouth and talked more quietly. “Really? Does _Barry_ know?”

Hartley shrugged. “Considering that Oliver kissed him?”

“ _Oh my god_ ….” Cisco exclaimed. He grabbed his cheeks with both hands, his eyes were wide and nearly bugging out. “You probably shouldn’t be _telling_ me this.”

“Oliver never told me not to,” Hartley said with a mischievous smile. Of course, Oliver didn’t seem to be aware of the fact that Hartley had overheard him mentioning it to Tommy. “But, no, probably not. I would not have mentioned it at all except I had assumed you observed him with Barry. It’s very obvious when Oliver likes someone.”

Cisco shook his head. “I really had no idea,” he said. “Honestly, I kinda thought Barry had a little thing for Oliver? But he’s so head-over-heels about Iris.” Cisco rolled his eyes. “Don’t get me wrong, Iris is incredible. Barry’s feelings… She’s living with a different guy and I don’t think she knows how Barry feels about her so it’s a whole…” Cisco gestured vaguely. “... _thing_.”

Hartley scoffed but resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Why on _Earth_ has he never told her?” he asked. 

“I think it’s because her dad took him in when he was a kid?” Cisco said. “Joe. You know. He and Barry’s dad were best pals before his mom. And stuff." 

Cisco paused. "Anyway, when Barry needed someone to look after him, Joe stepped up and I think that makes it hard for him because they’re in a weird sorta… nebulous… _thing_.”

Hartley paused for a moment to take that in. “That is the most thoroughly heterosexual drama I have ever heard,” he said. “Although, I suppose I cannot judge. It’s really not that much more bizarre than Tommy and Oliver, after all.”

“Tommy and Oliver? They’re a _thing_?” Cisco asked, raising his eyebrows. “Tommy hit on me right in front of Oliver!”

“They are… not together now,” Hartley said. 

“What happened?” Cisco said. “I know it’s getting late but I _gotta_ know.”

“I am not sure,” Hartley said. “They’ve been on-again-off-again since they were basically children. Ah, they don’t mind sharing one another. So even if they _had_ been together, Tommy still would likely have tried to hit on you right in front of him.”

“Oh, wow, so they’re... swingers?” Cisco asked. 

“Yes, I would call it...Polyamourous and very flirtatious.” Hartley said. “Up until Oliver disappeared, apparently. They haven’t really been a couple since then, although they both clearly want to be together.”

“So… what’s the problem, then?” Cisco asked. “Why didn’t they just… start up again?”

“I truly have no idea,” Hartley said. “I have been trying to understand that since I moved in. Oliver refuses to even discuss it; neither with me nor Tommy. It’s very sad.”

“That’s the most thoroughly _Oliver Queen_ thing I’ve ever heard,” Cisco said. “Jeez. What a mess. Gotta be entertaining, though?”

“It was very briefly,” Hartley said. “Now, it’s just sad.”

Cisco sighed and nodded. “I’m really glad you have Tommy, Oliver and Thea, though,” he said. 

“I am quite lucky,” Hartley agreed. “It _is_ getting late. I suppose I had better return to my room.”

“Alright, good night, Hart,” Cisco said, smiling.

“Good night, Cisco,” Hartley said.

It was no surprise to Hartley that he dreamed about Cisco that night. It was such a good dream, in fact, that he slept straight through the night and had to take a cold shower in the morning. He was composed and in his best suit by the time he came down to the breakfast nook where Cisco was struggling his way through a very large cup of coffee and a single piece of toast. Tommy and Oliver were there also but were being quiet over their breakfast.

“Did you not sleep well?” Hartley asked as he sat down beside Cisco. “If there is something wrong with your bed or room, we can have it fixed before tonight.”

Cisco shook his head. “It’s not that. I have nightmares,” Cisco said. “I’ll be peachy after the caffeine kicks in.”

“I see,” Hartley said. “I am sorry to hear that you had bad dreams.”

Cisco shrugged. “I’m starting to get used to it,” he said. “Ugh, that’s probably not a good thing.”

“Maybe you should see a doctor,” Tommy said. “Or smoke some weed.”

“I _do_ smoke weed,” Cisco said. “It doesn’t help.”

“You shouldn’t smoke, Cisco,” Hartley said. “If you need a vaporizer, I will purchase one for you.”

“I don’t need you to buy me a vape,” Cisco said a little irritably. “If I wanna vape, I’ll build myself a vape.”

Hartley raised his eyebrows at Cisco’s tone. “My mistake,” Hartley said.

“No…” Cisco rubbed at his eyes with his free hand. “I shouldn’t snap at you. It was nice of you to offer but I’m good. I’ll ask Cate to give me some sleeping pills if it gets bad enough. Never mind my sleep problems. Did you sleep okay?”

“Yes,” Hartley said. He checked his watch. “We should probably be going.”

“Alright, yeah,” Cisco said. He stood. “Is what I’m wearing okay?”

Hartley looked Cisco over and smiled. Cisco was wearing yellow jeans with a green t-shirt that said “let’s make a panda” and had a polar bear and a black bear on it doing the Seiyan Fusion Dance. “You’ll fit in fine,” Hartley said. “I have to wear a suit because I am in management. I allow my engineers to dress however they like.”

“Great, let’s go,” Cisco said. “Do we gotta take a limo or something?”

“Nah, you can drive any of my cars you want,” Tommy said. “Hey, take the Lamborghini. It’s _sick_.”

“Uhhhh, well, I would love to drive a Lambo someday but for now I’d rather drive something a little safer,” Cisco said.

“Who said _you_ would be driving?” Hartley asked, playfully. “A Lamborghini is plenty safe.”

“All the same, do you have an SUV or something?” Cisco asked. “Your garage is bigger than my parents house. You gotta have at least one.”

“Yeah, I have a Hummer and an Escalade,” Tommy said. “And one more but I don’t remember the make. Just ask the butler in the garage for the key to whatever.”

Cisco shook his head. “Alright, man, thanks,” he said.

Hartley lead the way to the garage. “I’m surprised you turned down the Lamborghini,” he said.

“I’d be terrified to drive a car that expensive,” Cisco said. “What if I got a scratch on it, or worse?”

“Tommy would just buy a new one,” Hartley said with a shrug. 

“Oh, right, yeah, _crazy rich_ ,” Cisco said. “Must be nice to just be able to buy a brand new Lambo just… whenever.”

“I suppose the trade off is that he never knows if the women he dances with at the club are into him or his money,” Hartley said. 

"Oh no," Cisco said, sarcastically. "He doesn't know if women want him for his millions or for his super handsome mug? How awful for him. Is this the garage?”

Cisco gestured to a door that looked as if it cost more than his parents' house.

“It is,” Hartley said. "And it is _billions_ , actually." He pressed a button on the door and a moment later, a stiff-looking man in an even stiffer suit opened the door.

“Master Rathaway,” Stiff Suit greeted Hartley. “Master Rathaway’s friend.”

“Mr. Greer, I have asked you several times to please not refer to me that way,” Hartley said a little sternly. “This is Cisco Ramon. Tommy said we could borrow the…”

“I guess the Escalade,” Cisco said. “Unless you have a less expensive SUV in there?”

“I will bring the Escalade around to the front for Master Ramon,” Mr. Greer said and shut the door.

Hartley sighed. “Come on,” he said. “We’ll have to walk back to the front entrance.”

“Bout to get all my steps in for the day before I even get to your lab,” Cisco said. “Why is this house so _big_?”

Hartley hummed softly. “I assume Malcolm was compensating for something,” he said. He started back for the front of the house. 

“I know I shouldn’t complain but all this… luxury around me just makes me feel like I definitely _do not_ belong here,” Cisco said. “And what was with that butler? Why does he call everyone ‘Master’ even after you told him not to?”

“It’s his training,” Hartley said. “Thea threatened him with violence to get him to stop calling her ‘Young Mistress Queen.’”

“Ugh, rich people...” Cisco grumbled. “Can you ask Tommy to tell all the maids and butlers that I’m poor or something so they don’t try to do stuff for me? I caught a maid trying to take my dirty laundry and I think I scared her telling her to get out.”

Hartley took his cellphone out of his pocket and texted Tommy immediately, even though they were in the same house. “I’ve let him know to instruct the staff not to go near you or your belongings,” he said. “It’s the only way to keep them from attempting to do everything for you.”

“Great,” Cisco said flatly.

They exited the mansion and despite Hartley’s teasing, he let Cisco get in the driver’s seat. Hartley felt safer with Cisco driving anyway. Cisco had better depth perception and, presumably, not the distraction of hearing every moving part in the car at once while trying to drive. They had a fairly pleasant commute, Cisco singing along to the radio a few times was both amazingly beautiful and somehow heart-tearing at the same time. He didn’t mind when Cisco would go a little off pitch or off tempo here and there. The freedom and happiness coming through in his voice more than made up for the occasional mistake. Besides, Cisco was still far better at singing than the average person and it made Hartley happy to hear Cisco sing. 

The tour of the lab went well. Cisco was decently impressed with the engineers and the prototype prosthetic. It helped that it was finally ready for Eli to wear. They waltzed around the lab for Cisco and let him poke and tickle their shin a few times to prove they could feel it. Eli moved like they had never lost a leg at all. It filled Hartley with warmth and pride to see his engineering staff succeed so beautifully at something so important.

“Okay, I’m convinced,” Cisco said once he and Hartley had adjourned to Hartley's office. “It may or may not take me some time to convince Dante. He’s… sorta not speaking to me right now.”

“I could always go speak to him,” Hartley said. “Or send Magda. She is a good deal more charming than myself.”

“No, don’t… send her,” Cisco said. “No offense but, my brother can be a creep."

“Magda will put the fear of god in him before he even _considers_ saying anything untoward,” Hartley said. “I have witnessed her doing so on one occasion. It’s quite impressive.”

Cisco laughed. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll let you contact him and my parents yourself. It’d help if you had already built someone a hand, and can show them a video of that person doing something really complicated and delicate.”

“We have on whole arm on the list of prosthetics to make,” Hartley said. “I will ask that Eli and Magda make that patient top priority, so that I can confirm Dante’s interest or disinterest as soon as possible.”

“Thank you so much for this, Hartley. For… just everything so far. You might still think you’re not a good person but you’re obviously _trying_ to be.”

“I appreciate you saying so,” Hartley said. He couldn’t meet Cisco’s eye, however. He straightened his tie as an excuse for his averted gaze. 

“Alright, well…” Cisco sighed. “I’m gonna head out so you can do your job without distraction, alright? Your computer keeps going off with notifications, what's that?”

“Emails. You’re not distracting me, Cisco,” Hartley said. “This job practically does itself.”

“Still,” Cisco said. “I wanna check out the city a little, and if that number of notifs says anything, _you_ have a lot to catch up on.”

There was a lie in something Cisco was saying but Hartley couldn’t think of a good enough excuse to pry into Cisco’s business. And he _needed_ a really good excuse. He knew that now, thanks to his research. “That’s a great idea,” Hartley said. “Just stay out of the Glades, please. That neighborhood is dangerous, even during the day time.”

Cisco laughed. “I can take care of myself, Hart,” he said. 

“Very well,” Hartley said. “You can keep driving the Escalade. I will call for a driver to come pick me up when I finish work.”

“Alright, thanks again,” Cisco said.

“You’re welcome.”

Cisco paused awkwardly and then patted Hartley on the shoulder before leaving. Hartley listened to Cisco’s heartbeat until his computer went ‘ding’ a minute later. Hartley sighed and sat down at his computer. When he saw what the alert was, he almost wished Cisco was still there with him.

The email was actually an alert for a program he had written to check police scanners for particular phrases. It was a pretty ingenious little program. It picked up the radio waves from police scanners and ran them through voice-to-text software Hartley had modified with his enhanced knowledge of soundwaves. He mainly used it to try and keep track of Leonard Snart and to alert him of potential metahuman incidents. This particular set of phrases was marked with the highest urgency which was why the notification had gone off several times. Hartley should have checked it the first time he’d heard his computer ding more than twice but he hadn’t.

The flagged phrases were “ _suicide_ ” and “ _singing_ ”. Hartley read about how a man had called 911 at three in the morning to call in a noise complaint about his upstairs neighbor “having a fucking sing-off with some woman” and how, mid-call, the witness had seen the victim fall past their window and land on “ _his own fucking car!!_ ”

The call had come through on the _Central City Police scanner._

Hartley had to remind himself to start breathing again. He had no way of knowing what kind of man the Music Meister had killed this time. Anyway, it was clearly _her_ again. Hartley used Oliver’s breathing techniques to calm himself down. It took a lot less time than he expected.

He knew what to do, of course. He’d already decided his course of action. 

He called his secretary and asked her to cancel the meeting he’d scheduled for near the end of that day and told her that he was leaving early but to feel free to call him if she or anyone in the lab needed anything. Then he called for a cab to take him to the police station. Hartley didn’t think to call Tommy’s driver, he was too focused on getting to the police station. 

Once he was there, he asked to speak to Detective Lance “Urgently, please,” he’d said to the woman at the desk. He hadn’t even noticed Lance’s heart-beat, due to his own anxiety about Music Meister, and what he was about to do. Distracted Hartley enough that Lance was able to sneak up on him.

“Lookin’ for me?” Lance’s voice startled Hartley.

Hartley turned to look at him. “Detective Lance. I’m glad you’re here. I need to speak with you. It’s-”

“Urgent, yeah, come on,” Lance said. “You know where Interrogation room C is.”

Hartley resisted the urge to retort or roll his eyes but he did rather _march_ to the interrogation room and sat down before Lance even cleared the door.

Lance took his time sitting down and getting comfortable. “This oughta be good,” Lance said. “So what? What do you want?”

Hartley sighed. “I have some information for you about those… suicides we spoke of before,” he said. “I have reason to believe that they were murder.”

“So do I!” Lance said. “If you could just tell me how you _did_ it, it’d save me a lot of headache. I’d be so grateful. Not that it’ll keep you outta jail…”

“I did not…” Hartley scoffed. “You _saw_ my alibi.”

“It’s shaky,” Lance said. “You’re good with computers. Coulda doctored it beforehand. Only reason you’re not being arraigned is because I can’t _prove_ that it was doctored.”

“Oh, this is clearly a waste of time,” Hartley said. “There is a dangerous metahuman on the loose with abilities you cannot comprehend. I am trying to help you find her.”

“What makes you think it’s a woman?” Lance asked. “Oh, I get it. Hartley’s usually a girl’s name, right?”

Hartley rolled his eyes. He couldn’t resist anymore. “You are utterly blinded by prejudice,” he said. “I can see that there is no point in continuing this conversation.” Hartley stood up. “I’ll find someone of at least average intelligence to speak to.” Hartley stalked off, ignoring Lance calling after him to return.

He was so angry, he didn’t know what to do. Oliver’s breathing techniques were no longer working. Hartley ruined his shoes power-walking three miles before he slowed down. He had to think of something. Someone to tell. Someone who could do something with the metahuman angle. The obvious choice was The Flash. After all, Music Meister had murdered someone in _his city._ Hartley could call Cisco and ask _him_ to tell The Flash but…

Hartley was beginning to reach the end of what his pride could take. 

The idea of letting The Flash take down his nemesis was too much to bear. Besides, The Flash clearly had his hands full if Cisco’s current state of irritable exhaustion was any indication. And what if that was what Cisco had run off so quickly to do earlier? Maybe The Flash had called about this very issue.

It was too much, too overwhelming. Hartley didn’t know what to do. So he took out his phone and called Tommy.

 _Oliver_ answered the phone on the third ring. “Hello?” 

“Oliver,” Hartley said. “Why are you answering Tommy’s phone?”

“I’m… at the spa with Tommy,” Oliver admitted. “He’s having a facial right now and can’t come to the phone. What’s wrong?”

Hartley sighed. Talking to Oliver was better than stewing in infuriated silence. “The Music Meister struck again in Central City,” Hartley said. “So I took a cab down to SCPD to speak with Detective Lance.”

“Why?” 

“Because he is already _on_ this particular case,” Hartley said. “I thought I would tell him about the metahuman angle but he was accusatory and rude the whole time. He truly believes I murdered those vile men. I could hear it in his voice. So I have just been walking aimlessly downtown.”

“Hartley, I’m sorry,” Oliver said. “I wouldn’t advise getting law enforcement involved anyway.”

“I can’t take her down myself,” Hartley said. “There has to be _someone_ with some authority or power to do _something_.”

“Aside from The Flash?” Oliver asked.

“Precisely,” Hartley said. “Central City isn’t the only place with people possessing exceptional abilities. I find it difficult to believe that there isn’t already some organization, probably government-related, that is attempting to deal with this issue.”

“Think about what you’re saying,” Oliver said. “You’re a metahuman and you want to give information on someone like you to _the government_? Do you want _me_ to call The Flash?”

“I don’t believe you truly understand how _dangerous_ this woman is. What if she enthralls The Flash with her ability?”

“Mind controlling a speedster sounds about as dangerous as you can get,” Oliver said. “Alright. I can’t come with you because Tommy threatened to kick me out if I flake out on him today. I think he means it this time.”

“He does _not_ , Oliver,” Hartley said impatiently.

“I owe it to him to stay,” Oliver said so seriously that it shut Hartley up completely. “Just… text me your location. I’ll ask John to come pick you up and take you to some people who might be able to do something.”

“Fine,” Hartley said.

“What do you want me to tell Cisco when he gets back here?” Oliver asked. “I assume he’s not with you or you’d still have Tommy’s Escalade.”

“Tell him that I had some urgent business to take care of and I will meet him at Verdant later to explain,” Hartley said. “I assume Tommy was planning to drag myself and Cisco along tonight anyway.”

“That’s exactly right,” Oliver said. “9 pm. Sharp. Don’t be late.” Oliver hung up.

Hartley looked around at the cross streets and addresses and texted Oliver the location of the gas station he was nearest. John Diggle showed up in that same old black SUV so quickly that Hartley was suspicious that Oliver had been having Diggle follow him.

But that was absurd. Hartley would have heard his heart-beat and recognized it. “That was fast,” Hartley said once he got in the front seat and buckled in.

“I was already at the police station when you called Oliver,” Diggle said. “I was bringing someone in who skipped out on bail.”

“You’re a bounty hunter?” Hartley asked.

“It was a special occasion,” Diggle said. “Let’s leave it at that.”

“Hm, fine,” Hartley said.

“You wanna talk about what we’re doing here?” Diggle asked. “Oliver just told me you had some information about a dangerous metahuman on the loose and wanted to get that information to the right people.”

“That’s correct,” Hartley said. “Can you tell me who these ‘ _right people_ ’ are?”

“A.R.G.U.S.” Diggle said. “It stands for Advanced Research Group United Support.”

Hartley let out a long, slow sigh. “That is a horrible name for anything.”

“They’re a special ops group with a research division,” Diggle said. “And they’re the closest thing we have to a metahuman task force.”

“I am starting to have misgivings about this,” Hartley said. 

“It’ll be fine,” Diggle said. “You tell them what you know and they take it out of your hands. That’s what you want, right?”

“I _want_ to apprehend her myself,” Hartley said. “But I suppose she is much too dangerous for me to do anything about.”

“Yeah,” Diggle said. “You’re a… regular human, right?”

“I am exceptional but not equipped to take this particular metahuman down,” Hartley said. “Let’s leave it at that.”

Diggle laughed. “Well, I know Oliver thinks the world of you so I fully believe you’re exceptional,” he said.

Hartley was a little stunned to hear that. “Does Oliver speak of me to you often?” he asked.

“Just that he’s proud of you, you inspire him to wanna be a better man, things like that,” Diggle said. “I know you had something to do with him finally getting therapy.”

“All I did was tell him I believed he could get better, really,” Hartley said with a shrug. 

Diggle let out a long, slow sigh. The type of sound that carries a lot of tension on the back of it. “I didn’t know that was the problem,” he said. “Never occurred to me he thought he was a hopeless case so he didn’t even _try_. You must be a pretty empathetic person to have figured out what he needed to hear when no one else did the past two years.”

Hartley laughed. “I am literally _not_ empathetic,” he said. “I have only the slightest hints of empathy and only for very specific people. And no real conscience to speak of. You should probably be careful of me.”

Diggle glanced at Hartley briefly at a stop light and then turned his gaze back to the road. “Nope,” he said. “I don’t buy it. I think you’re a good person, Rathaway. You maybe took the wrong path for a little while and if you were born without much empathy or conscience, that’s not entirely your fault.”

“Excuse me? I was fully capable of choosing to do the right thing any time I did something wrong. Just because I feel very little in the way of emotional consequences for misdeeds that does not mean I was unable to know they were wrong.” Hartley asked. He’d been beginning to form the opinion that Diggle was smarter than average. Now, he wasn’t so sure and he found it disappointing. 

“Who taught you right from wrong?” Diggle asked. “Not your parents? From what I understand, they’re irredeemably bad people.”

“You don’t _know_ them,” Hartley said. Just because it was true, didn’t mean he liked hearing other people say it. It hurt, deep down. He still couldn’t let go of the hope that they’d beg his forgiveness and take him back some day. He didn’t like being reminded of it.

“I know they abandoned their child for being gay,” Diggle said. “That’s something _I_ consider unforgivable.”

Hartely said nothing. He was too emotional for the moment. 

“Look, I’m sorry, that was crossing a line,” Diggle said after a few moments of silence. “All I’m trying to say is, you might not be cutting yourself enough slack. What you’re doing right now is a very good thing that you don’t _have_ to do.”

“It’s self preservation at best,” Hartley said. “This metahuman has already nearly killed me once.”

“If you say so,” Diggle said. He was finally silent for the rest of the shockingly long car ride. It was already nearing 7 pm by the time they got there. Hartley hadn’t realized how much he’d walked around after talking to Detective Lance. 

“I need to be back in the Glades by 9,” Hartley told Diggle as they were being buzzed through security. 

“I already know,” Diggle said. “The drive back is shorter because it’s not rush hour anymore. This won’t take too long.”

A security guard finally let them into the main building. It looked much like an office but Hartley could hear things on lower floors that filled him with dread. Inhuman sounding things. Wailing and someone ranting about someone named ‘ _mistah' J_ ’ and how she’d ‘smashed him up good but _mitsah_ J deserved it, he did’. 

“Is there some kind of ... asylum here?” Hartley asked Diggle as they were lead down the halls.

“What makes you ask that?” Diggle asked, frowning at Hartley.

“This place gives me the creeps,” Hartley said dismissively. He’d thought the wailing and ranting were both loud enough for Diggle to hear but he must have misjudged the volume. Hartley did his best to block him out. “I just wondered. If this place is for researching and apprehending dangerous metahumans, is it also a prison? The security is so tight.”

“Better not ask questions like that,” Diggle said. “Just trust that anyone who is being dealt with by ARGUS is a serious threat to society.”

“And some of them are probably right below us, then?” Hartley asked. “Oh good. This plan is sounding better and better.”

“It’ll be fine,” Diggle said.

Hartley doubted that but he had little else in the way of options. He was already here and Oliver seemed sure that it was the best option that didn’t involve The Flash so Hartley fell silent and followed Diggle to a plain, utilitarian office with uncomfortable chairs. A woman named Amanda Waller was there to take down everything he knew about the Music Meister. Diggle stood at Hartley's side, motionless and silent the whole time Hartley spoke. It was a hideously uncomfortable experience and Hartley didn’t feel any better by the time he was done.

“That took far too long, there is no way we will make it back to Verdant in less than thirty minutes,” Hartley said once they exited Amanda Waller’s office and were on their way back to the front of the building. “She kept asking me clarifying questions that I had no answers to.”

“You wouldn’t explain how you’d heard Music Meister the first time,” Diggle said. “You were real vague about it.”

“She doesn’t need to know _how_ I heard her, just _what_ I had heard,” Hartley said.

“Well-”

Hartley held up his hand to silence Diggle. He thought he’d heard…

The euphoria was beginning to take hold. He couldn’t even clearly hear the _song_. Just a few of the notes here and there. Hartley started humming loudly, trying to block it out. His brain was already getting fuzzy. Why was he trying to fight it again? The song was so beautiful. _The song would set him free._

“What’s going on?” Diggle asked. “Why are you _humming_ like that?”

The Music Meister was clearly too far away for her song to have much of an effect. It was broken the moment Diggle spoke. “She’s coming,” Hartley said. “I can hear…” Hartley started humming loudly again. Her voice was just on the edge of his hearing. The focus he’d attained from the weeks of practicing Oliver’s special breathing techniques was helping him maintain control, but his tongue felt heavy and his fingers and limbs clumsy. 

“What is it, Hartley?” Diggle asked. “What… I don’t hear anything.”

She was getting louder. Hartley struggled to get his phone out of his pocket. He had to call for help. Had to call Cisco--

“ _Come to me, I’ll set you free_ ,” it was too late. The Music Meister’s voice was coming over the PA system now. The tune was almost like a lullabye. “ _Meet me in sub-basement three. You’re chained by fear, and pain, my dear. I’ll make you calm once you are near._ ”

Hartley and Diggle were already walking toward the elevators alongside everyone else on that floor. The Music Meister’s song kept repeating.

Hartley didn’t feel calm this time. And he didn’t have that blissful feeling that had come before he’d nearly drowned. He was more clear-headed and that was _worse_ because it made him hyper-aware that he had no control over his body. 

No say in what it did. No matter how much he screamed in his own mind, he couldn’t force himself to so much as turn and run away. He couldn't even make himself _blink_.

The elevators took them down to sub-basement three along with every other person in the building. This was the prison Hartley had been asking about. A large room, just empty space in the middle with complicated jail cells on every wall. There were at least two hundred other people milling around, obediently forming a circle around the woman in the middle. 

Although clearly a woman, she really did resemble Hartley in a way that turned Hartley’s stomach. If he could throw up, he would but it seemed that now that he’d done what Music Meister had commanded, he was stuck standing still as a statue beside John Diggle and numerous other people he’d never seen before.

And he knew they were going to all die together.

A spotlight, somehow, shined on Music Meister, illuminating her white silk top hat and matching tuxedo-dress and cloak. She didn’t bother wearing a mask over her eyes. She apparently saw no reason to hide her identity. She finished one last verse of her summoning song even though the last of the people in the facility had already gathered. She seamlessly moved on to an entirely new song which blended in with the last. It sounded like some perversion of a sing-along song from a children's movie.

“I’ve brought you all here for a reason,” she sang. “I do hope you will understand. I have traveled further than you can imagine. And for so long I have worked on this plan. You all may think me a villian, I won’t blame you if that’s what you do. But before I bring down my justice, I thought I’d explain this to you~!” Her voice rose to a crescendo.

“This place that you work in is evil. The path that you walk is the same. If you keep on enslaving my people, I’ll have to take over your brain.”

“ _This place that I work in is evil_ ,” many of the people, but not all of them sang in return. The ones who were silent, including Hartley and Diggle, remained motionless but the singers were beginning to dance. It was almost like a coordinated thing. It was a little like being in the center of a flash mob. The motions of the dance went along perfectly with the rhythm of the lyrics. “ _The path that I walk is the same. If I keep on enslaving her people, she’ll have to take over my brain_!”

The singers continued to dance as Music Meister sang the next part of the song. “Monsters are hiding among you. In a way, you have all played a part. To the ones who hurt metas directly: put your hand into your chest… and pull. Out. Your. Own heart~!”

There was a horrible squelching and ripping sound and Hartley could see out of the periphery of his vision as six of the men in guard uniforms followed Music Meister’s command. It shouldn’t even be physically possible for a man to rip out his own heart but Hartley could see it happening on the edges of his vision. 

Even worse, he could hear every detail of every rib breaking, every layer of skin and fat and muscle tearing and worst of all _it happened in time with the music_. Hartley couldn’t tell where the accompanying music was coming from. It was some strange combination of harp and piano and string instruments. The percussion seemed to all come from the dancing and heart ripping. Hartley could only assume Music Meister was remixing all the sounds in the room like a biological autotune.

Hartley was beginning to truly despair. For the first time in quite a while, he wanted to weep. And he couldn’t. He had to just stand there as Music Meister kept singing.

“ _I know some among you are healers, but there are butchers that hide in your ranks. If you’ve practiced unholy eugenics, then grab hold of something sharp... and Jam. It in. Your. E~vil brain~._ ”

It was one person this time. They were already reaching into the pocket of their lab coat when Music Meister told them to grab something sharp. The (assumed) doctor took a pen out of their pocket and jammed it with impossible force into their eyeball. The awful squish punctuated the end of the long, high note Music Meister was holding.

Hartley wanted to scream. He was going to die here. He was going to die and he’d never see Cisco again. Never get to tell him he loved him. Never get to tell him the truth about Snart. Never hear the sweet sound of Cisco’s hair brushing over his shoulders.

Music Meister opened her mouth to sing again and all around him, everyone but the people in the cells, Hartley and Diggle began to dance. faster But Hartley didn’t hear her next words. He heard…

 _The Blue Wrath_??

The Blue Wrath was playing in his ears somehow? As if it was coming right through his hearing aids. Hartley started to bring his hand up to his face to cover his mouth and was astonished to find he had control of his hand. It was almost funny. 

Of all things--. It could only be Cisco, Hartley had been forced to re-watch Shaun of the Dead so many times, Hartley knew that song by heart. Somehow, some miraculous way, Cisco had realized Hartley was in trouble. Maybe the call _had_ gone through before Hartley lost control of himself. 

It didn’t matter. Cisco had clearly figured out that he needed to counter Music Meister’s frequency with some kind of noise. Hartley knew what to do instantly. Before anyone else could hurt themselves, Hartley amplified the soundwaves coming into his hearing aids and projected them out through his open mouth.

The sound was so loud, it shook the cells on the walls and Music Meister faltered. All around, people were coming back to their senses and Hartley felt a surge of triumph. He was making his way toward Music Meister, deaf to anything except for The Blue Wrath blasting all around and through him. Then he was suddenly thrown backwards into a wall by an unseen force. He saw a blur of silvery-blue-purple _something_ , heard a sound not unlike the doppler noise that Barry makes when he runs. Then he lost consciousness.


End file.
